Fifty Shades Meander
by Mobabe
Summary: In order for my story to depart it was necessary to have them apart. I know the thought breaks your heart but, I promise, it's only the start! Ana runs instead of facing Christian when she finds out she's pregnant. This story sticks very closely to the original trilogy, only 18 please. Please note this is NOT a cheating story and a happy-ever-after is guaranteed! :)
1. Chapter 1

**I adore the Fifty Shades Trilogy by E.L. James and three books weren't nearly enough for me so, I thought I'd give myself more…. All credit to E. L. James and her stunning Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy for the inspiration. The ensuing story however is my own creation as well as any new characters therein.**

_In order for my story to depart,_

_It was necessary to have them apart._

_I know the thought breaks your heart,_

_But I promise - it's only the start!_

What if, when Anastasia finds out she's pregnant, she runs instead of staying to face the music?

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Ana's point of view:** My body is shaking with shock of the news. _A baby? No fucking way, no way, NO WAY!_ Uselessly my mind is trying to grasp this staggering piece of information. I'm like a small child, hopelessly, helplessly trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I know Christian is going to go ape shit on me, thermonuclear and then some. _How could I have let this happen?_ In a daze I falter to the waiting Audi where Sawyer is already opening the door for me. Vaguely I register the concern on his face as he frowns, taking in the pale moon of mine.

x

"Where to Mrs Grey?" he asks with his head cocked to a side, grappling with why I look like I've seen a ghost.

"The apartment please," I squeeze out the words - past the strangling hands that's gotten a hold of my throat as I duck into the car. The frantic beat of my heart provides a brisk tempo for the rising panic, a brewing swell of emotions ready to choke me. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts, hot tears sting behind my eyes but I blink them away, using the last of my will to keep my words from wobbling, I ask, "When will Christian arrive back from Portland?"

"We're expecting him later this afternoon ma'am, around three I believe," he confirms on a brief glance at me in the rear view mirror, the worry lines still visible on his brow.

_Okay. I have time_. I reach for calm as I exhale a long breath, forcing the air through the circle of my mouth. _What to do, what to do…..? _He's mentioned children before but in a disconnected way, like he could only imagine it in a vision for some distant, ethereal future. Even I know, beyond any shadow of doubt that now is **not** that time. I can't help wondering if he'll be so opposed that he makes me get rid of it. I know that I would, if he asked me to.

_No! Not my little blip!_ I run a protective hand over my still-flat belly - the belly that, for now, holds a devastating secret. I issue a shuddering sigh as I slide a trembling hand through the strands of my dishevelled hair, staring unseeing out of the window. In spite of the heat in the car I shiver, chilled as the bile of panic burns the back of my raw throat.

I know he thinks that he loves me - he says it all the time, but this is a first for us both. We're in love for now but the shiny newness – I know - never lasts forever. All too soon the reality of full-time commitment seeps into even the happiest relationship and _in love_ gives way to what? Companionship if you're lucky and if not; boredom, indifference or worse: resentment. I've seen it often enough with my mom, currently drifting through her fourth marriage. She once said that her world began and ended with Ray but I remember, all too well, that even that love wasn't enough. Since Ray she's managed to blaze her way through two men again.

Mentally I groan, _how did I ever think I could hold on to this man?_ Uninvited my cruel subconscious suddenly rebukes me with a myriad of scenes, flitting them through my mind as a visual reminder. I see images of so many people, even my mom, surprised at his interest in me. _How on earth could I have missed these cues?_ If the love tinted glasses I've been wearing blinded me this much I can only assume it will be the same for him. Sooner or later he'll wake-up to the real me.

As if to confirm my realisation that nagging thought that I've tried so hard to supress slithers back into my head. Always unwelcome, constantly gnawing it tells me that I'll never be enough for a man like him. No one understands better than me that I can never be everything he needs, maybe even more than Elena when she hissed those words of accusation to me on the night of his party. The searing memory of Dom Christian accepting Leila's complete submission fills my mind's eye. It's all I can do to stop the dread advancing, stealing more and more of my sanity.

My scattered faculties abruptly regroup, organising themselves into a vague plan that becomes clearer as I shift my focus away from the cracks patterning over my heart. _I can leave, hide, start over._ The notion, at first, is as foreign as it is inconceivable but I love him too much to hurt him like he's been hurt. I must stop forcing him into being something that he's not. How can I ask him to be a father when I know that he fears that more than anything?

Along with this startling moment of clarity comes the certainty that I haven't improved his life. He was happy before I stumbled into his life, sure of himself, secure. I've only ever brought confusion. I can't even be conscientious enough to get a contraceptive shot in time.

The sensation of my shattering heart is almost physical, unbearable in its intensity. Ripping away Christian's half of me is unfathomably painful, certain to leave a permanent scar. I love him so much - even the thought of being without him seems so surreal I almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. _Could I do this? Could I survive a life without him? _

Mercifully I feel an emptiness eclipse the panic as I reason with myself, wielding logic as a weapon. I'll have the baby to love, to help me claw my way out of the dark hole of misery I'm rapidly getting lost in. I can give Christian the freedom to be the great man he's destined to be, the *master of his universe, without inconvenient me screwing up his perfectly ordered life.

When we arrive at Escala, Sawyer drops me off at the entrance. Unfeelingly focussed, I make my way from the elevator to our bedroom without seeing a thing. I can hear my forced breaths as an unforgiving hand begins a slow squeeze around my heart. I feel as though one would be able to see my pain, even from the outside - like I'm wearing it.

I grab a few essentials from the closet and the bathroom, stuffing it into a random bag. I'm careful to leave anything that will remind me of him or could lead him to me. Mindful to cutting all ties I disconsolately drop my wedding ring and the precious birthday charm-bracelet, dangling with all our firsts, onto the nightstand. It stings just like real cuts to the flesh.

x

_How will I to get him to leave me alone?_ I wonder. Stalker that he is, I know he'll attempt to keep tabs on me, try to find and contact me in an effort to uncover my reasons. I won't stand a chance resisting if he pleads, arguing with the might of his charm and will. But I can't let that happen. He won't understand, for now he'll only deny the things that I know to be true, deep in my heart. I'm not and never will be enough for a man like him and if this plays out like I see it in the future, then we'll put this innocent child though divorce or worse, stay in a loveless, resentful marriage for his sake and do untold damage to each other.

Christian's been damaged enough. Once his infatuation with me melts from his mind, he'll see that I've done him a favour. Without strings to hold him back he'll be able to exert his formidable control and forge the success that he's bound to be. No useless distractions like me or unwanted children to remind him of his harrowing early years. My resolve hardens despite the crippling ache as I brace myself with another shaky breath.

My inner goddess and my subconscious are crying, huddled together, the gravity of my decision felt by even them. My inner goddess is quickly losing her vitality, her light fading fast but I can't dwell on that now. Determined again I scan the room for anything I might have forgotten when my eyes fall on my purse. Hastily I tip the contents onto the bed to paw through the mess for the things that I need. The blinking envelope on my phone's screen draws my attention, announcing a missed call from Jose. I gasp with the force of the solution that hits me like a blow. _Jose! That's it!_ I've no doubt that if I turn to him he'll willingly let me walk into his arms - and his life.

The plan shifts and morphs, rapidly taking shape as I fit the details together on the fly. If we got married right away Christian will believe I am carrying Jose's child and he'll leave me alone, especially if he thinks that's what I want. I push aside the knowledge that I'll be leaving this life, this home, this man as only half of myself, that I no longer own the part I'm leaving behind. I'll never be able to wholly give myself to anyone other than him.

I allow my desperation to gloss over the blatant abuse of my friendship with Jose this will be, the fact that I'll be using his affections for me so mercilessly. Even now I know the relationship will never last but then, I don't need it to. All I need is for Christian to let me go.

Inwardly I cower as the dark strategy unfolds itself before me. If I tell Jose that Christian has rejected me because of the baby then he - traditional man that he is - will come charging to the rescue, happily taking me and little blip into his life. The idea is gut wrenchingly sad but the only out I can come up with.

Through the blur in my eyes I rip a page from my notebook. There's a painful twist in my belly when I realise it's probably the last thing I'll ever get to say to him when I apply the shaky pen to paper. My subconscious is embalming my inner goddess, wrapping her in gauze and laying her down. She's gone and so is my resolve to fight back the flood of tears.

The sob escaping me is loud, ricocheting off the walls, startling me. I almost lose my nerve when I take a second to measure the pain as it tears through me. It's so much, so severe that I can't begin to comprehend it and therein lies my saving grace – it's simply too much to feel. The break is like being branded, indelible, something I'll never get over. I find the last surge of courage I need in the love I hold for him - _I must keep going_ I will myself - for Christian, for little blip.

With my meagre bag of worldly possessions clutched under my arm I listen to pinpoint Sawyer. I find him on the phone in Taylor's office with his back turned to the door. Quietly I sneak past to the main electrical board in the utility room. I flick the switch for the electricity supply then mentally start the countdown before the generator kicks in. I make a dash for the fire escape stairs and barrel down, taking them two at a time. With any luck Sawyer will waste time searching the apartment for me before he realises I'm gone. I've made sure that no one will be able to track me. I've left the BlackBerry and the Mac behind and with their built in tracking devices, Christian's impressive fleet of cars are off limits. Leaving the building on foot then blending into the crowd is my best option for escape.

**Christian point of view:** Christian is checking the landing markers through the bubble windows of Charlie Tango as he neatly touches her down on Escala's roof-top helipad. He looks to Taylor, giving him a nod and a slight smile. As they unclip themselves Christian remembers the first time he clipped Anastasia into the harness. A slow grin spreads onto his impossibly handsome face, his memories so colourful now that he has her. As always the intensity of his love for her takes his breath away, bubbling up with a joy he never gets enough of. It still amazes him that he has this capacity inside of him. She brings out the best in him, she's made him so much more than he was and he's so, so thrilled that she belongs to him. He can't wait to see her, hold her, kiss her, possess her… He just hopes that she understands what she means to him. He tries to show her but his experience with hearts and flowers are limited and of course, he knows he can be difficult to live with.

x

His grin spreads further thinking about how much she tries his patience sometimes. She's like a breath of fresh air, he muses before it dawns on him that the description doesn't quite fit. No - rather - she is the air he breathes. Satisfied with his summation he jogs across the rooftop, hunched forward to avoid the worst of the helicopter blades' whir. When he reaches for the entry keypad the building door bursts open, startling both him and Taylor. Sawyer is standing in front of them, breathing hard. The flush of the man's face along with his harrowed gaze puts Christian's body on high-alert. With muscles bunching, adrenaline spiking his sharp instincts only takes a second to kick in.

"Mr Grey, she's gone! I just…. I was busy… I…" Sawyer stumbles over his words, horror distorting his usual impassive features.

"What? What do you mean she's gone?" Christian barks; his brow furrowing. His tone is sharp, anger and shock most apparent but there's a part of him that hopes he didn't hear quite right.

"Sir, she cut the power and sneaked out the fire escape stairwell while I was on the phone to Welch." Sawyer holds his angry stare; taking responsibility for the slip he knows could cost him his job.

Slowly the blood drains from Christian's face as fear starts to crowd his mind. All he manages past the claws of terror that has him in a firm grip is, "Why?"

Sawyer's eyes flicker with anguish then pity, "She left a note sir."

"Where?" Christian growls as he strides purposefully past Sawyer. His heart is pounding, wild grey eyes grim and determined and filled with apprehension. The elevator efficiently whisks him into the apartment foyer where he starts an uneasy run through the great room, calling her name: "Ana, Ana?" Try as he might he can't wrap his mind around the idea that she might not be there. _Where would she go? Why did she give Sawyer the slip? Is she in trouble?_

His mind reels with unanswered questions, the sense that his usual, steely control is letting him down acute as he draws nearer to their bedroom. When he reaches their shared bed he sees it – a deceptively inoffensive looking scrap of paper. He makes a grab for it, crumpling the paper with his fierce grip as fear blasts his senses.

**Thank you so much for this weekend, for helping me through this difficult time with Ray in hospital. You are everything - you deserve so much more. I am not the girl for you. I'm so sorry. Please let me go.**

**Ana**

_What the fuck?_ His mind baulks at the implications. _How can this be? What the fuck happened?_ Slowly he sinks to the floor next to the bed with the note still clutched in his hand. He turns his disbelieving head to the door, Taylor and Sawyer witnesses to the devastation in his heart.

The grey in his eyes turn dull, like the fire behind them just got snuffed. The agony a mask moulding his features as his world seems to fall away, replaced with the darkness engulfing his heart to protect him from the nonsensical pain. If there was one good thing that came from his horrific early childhood, it's the ability to steel himself against such grief.

"When did you last see her?" he's question is directed at Sawyer, eyes cloudy and cold but his words hold a tense measure of severity.

"Sir, I picked her up from the hospital, after she went to help Ray settle in. She came out looking distracted and very pale. For a moment I thought she might faint but I just figured that she was worried about her dad. I asked her where she wanted to go and she said to come here." He swallows nervously, looking down as he organises his thoughts.

"She went straight to your bedroom. I went to Taylor's study to call Welch and while I was on the phone the power went out. I hung up and went searching for Mrs Grey. When I came in here I saw the note. I called you right away but you were still in the air." Even though he owns the blame it still flames the back of his neck like a red rash.

He continues, voice wavering in the knowledge that the info he's sharing is affecting his boss deeply, "I…, I went back to the study to check the CCTV footage - the power was back up by then, the generator had kicked in. I saw her on the screen, just for a moment, as she exited the fire escape door into the parking garage. She had a duffel bag with her and appeared to be in a big hurry. That was the last time I saw her sir." He purses his lips as if to steel himself for his boss' anger but his gaze remains fixed.

"I rushed down to try and catch up but she was long gone by the time I got there. I realised that she had tripped the power switch on the electrical board so I wouldn't see her escape down the stairwell on the CCTV system." He releases a quiet breath, relieved to be rid of the tale but dreading the sear of his boss' rage.

Christian cuts his stare away from Sawyer, "Taylor," he croaks, "find her, I want to know why." His tone is gruff with emotion that sits like a stain on his consciousness.

With a nod Taylor turns on his heel, purposefully striding down the corridor. Christian remains kneeling next to their marital bed, desperately trying to make sense of the craziness. His world is turned upside down – again. Everything is out of focus. If he gives in to the panic no amount of self-control is going to keep it at bay.

xxxxxxx

It's been two months and he hasn't been able to get hold of her, not even through her parents who seem intent on avoiding him like he's some kind of plague. He knows they're hiding information about her, what he doesn't understand is why. He would never hurt her - all he ever wanted to do was to love and protect her. He just wants to know why. _What did he do to push her away? What made her hate him? _

He felt damned. She knows him well enough to evade him and his expert security team and it was slowly driving him mad. The only news was a month ago, the request for a divorce. He signed the papers because the accompanying note, handwritten from her, asked him not to make it any harder than it already was. It was the worst moment of his life – soul destroying but he loved her enough to give her the freedom she obviously wanted.

More of his precious vitality seeped away, the bottomless black hole of pain sucking the life from him. Even now he longed for her in every way. Without her every single thing was an almost insurmountable task. Now his life was empty, truly grey…. He tripled his efforts to find her but still - nothing.

A brisk knock on his home-office door alerts him to Taylor's presence, the exhaustion and strain on the man's face almost as deeply etched as his own. "Sir, I have news." Christian's heart skips a beat, expectant eyes flickering for just a second before he clocks the grim set of Taylor's mouth. Clearly the news isn't good.

"I found this today," he says gently, handing Christian a copied document. His long fingers scissors it, his eyes quickly darting over the page as he processes the contents. With a sharp inhalation the paper slips from his grasp. The marriage licence is dated for yesterday, the groom Jose Rodriguez. A bitter boil rises from his stomach as his mind recoils in horror.

"There's more sir," Taylor breathes, clearing his throat.

Slowly, warily Christian lifts the lifeless grey pools of his eyes to his trusted employee - his right-hand man - disconnectedly wondering if he could take any more. "She's pregnant with Mr Rodriguez's child sir."

The blow to his psyche is so harsh that for a moment he literally sees stars bursting in front of his eyes, as if something in his brain exploded. He uses every inch of his formidable control to stay in the moment, his aching heart rebelling, kicking and screaming all the way as the echoes of a resounding _NOOOOO _cracks through his consciousness.

**A.P.O.V:** I stare through the hospital window, lost in my thoughts. It's been eight long months. I can hardly believe I survived them. Maybe survived isn't the right word - merely existed. Putting one foot in front of the other, doing what needs to be done but not living at all. In the quiet and the calm, as my newborn son sleeps soundly beside me, I can't help but reflect on the horrific past months.

Just as I suspected, Jose was only too happy to let me walk into his life and make an "honest" woman out of me, especially as he thought that the real father of my child had rejected us. I had a super quickie divorce from Christian, mainly because I made no claim on any of his assets and then, a shotgun wedding to Jose.

It was such an overwhelming relief that he allowed me to go, signing the divorce papers without a fuss. I must admit that there was a small part of me that was surprised that he let me go without a bigger fight, something about it left me feeling uneasy even if it did serve as proof that he had already moved on.

It was an incredibly difficult time, making sure that I couldn't be tracked by his security team - I can only imagine the effort he made to find me. At least it kept my mind off the immense, all-encompassing pain that I carried around. I never returned to SIP. I had to find something to do where I could get paid in cash - unable to use any tell-tale things like social security numbers or credit cards.

I was very vague with my family, keeping communication to an absolute minimum and even evading friends like Kate entirely as I put my plan into motion. I knew that once I was married again he would stay away.

At first Jose was very supportive, understanding of the ordeal I went through but all too soon our little scam of a marriage – predictably - fell apart. He began to realize that I was never going to get over the loss of Christian Grey. I couldn't offer him anything, my body unable to respond to him in any way with my heart so shattered and dark. I knew from the start that it would come to this but what could I do? My need to give Christian back his life and protect the baby growing inside me, far greater than my need for self-preservation – or Jose's for that matter. It was too late to change any of it but I felt the regret, hard and heavy along with the shame.

So now, for my sins, I'm a single mom, Jose having left us just over a month ago. I remember receiving a call from his dad, shortly after he walked out on us, that Jose was taken into hospital to recover from a vicious attack outside his apartment. He was badly beat-up but apparently lucky not to have any lasting injuries. Something about the incident reminded me of Christian, if left me wondering, curious to know if he had a hand in it.

It was no secret he never liked Jose, and me marrying the man would have made Christian crazy mad. If he found out that Jose had left me while I was pregnant with what he thought was Jose's child, I shudder to think how angry it would make him. Christian is certainly capable of blind rage and so often his reactions were unexpected. I know that his possessive nature, his strong sense of right and wrong, could guide him into serving justice as he saw fit even though he didn't belong to me anymore. The ironic and pitifully sad thing was that I would always be his.

What could have been if things were different? If this little one didn't show up so early. _No_, I berate myself, I can't think like that. I was never going to be able to keep him. How much worse would the fallout be, stuck in a marriage with someone who doesn't love you and is only staying because of a child he didn't want to hurt as he was once?

My baby boy stirs. Soon he'll be awake and crying his will to nurse. I'm going to call him Chris, my way to honour his father that will never know of his son's existence. Broken as I am I'm so very grateful for his arrival. He'll help me get back on my feet, someone else to care for and love, a reason to go on. I can shed all the love I have for his dad onto him and he, in turn, can help me heal.

**C.P.O.V:** Christian stands in front of his office window on the twentieth floor of Grey House. He looks out over Seattle as it lies, teeming at his feet. The sky is a steely grey mirroring his eyes and his bleak thoughts as the rain softly pelts the mammoth glass pane. The water runs down the surface in little rivulets, blurring his view. Not that it matters, the sight is lost on him anyway, as he looks into the past.

It was five years ago, from this very day that she left him. After he found out about her marriage to Jose and the subsequent baby she stopped hiding and it was easier to track her. Unable to let her go he kept close tabs on her but he knew - even if it killed him - that she belonged to someone else. He could taste his hatred for the fucker who took him from her even if she went on her own accord.

He did try to contact her shortly after her son was born; maybe for the hundredth time and again she refused to take his call. He even went as far as sending something for the little boy, hoping that the way to the mother's heart would be through her son but no, she still wanted nothing to do with him. When she returned the gift he was shocked by how mad it made him, _how could he still be that mad at her?_ He tried to deny it but he knew only too well what it meant - he still fucking loved her….. _Shit_ he thought resigned, he would always love her.

After that he had started to try to get over her. At first he ran to Elena, thinking that maybe she could provide some balm for the mind numbing pain. She welcomed him with open arms - and legs - overjoyed to have him back. Shaking his head at the memoryhe ponders the gargantuan mistake that was. The moment she touched him he recoiled, actually flinching away in revolt. It had shocked them both and he had not seen her again after that.

Then he fell back onto old habits - beating the crap out of a string of brown haired girls in the playroom as he tried in vain to exorcize Ana's clinging ghost. Not a single lash of a whip or the crack of a belt made him feel any better, the sight of welts and bruises only getting him madder at the monster inside him. The faceless women offered him nothing but the vacuous, meaningless encounters that only ended up fuelling his self-loathing so, he packed it in, his spirit more broken than before.

His frustration grew larger, his anger consuming him and eventually, he gave in to the eclipsing bitterness. He even stopped seeing Flynn - expensive fucking charlatan as he was. This break he knew; was not something he would ever overcome.

The only thing keeping him going was the philanthropy and charity work of his company and regular, intense bouts with Bastille, often knocking him on his ass and perversely grateful for it. His white hot anger spurring him on. He functioned on a day-to-day basis, doing only what he needed to do to survive. His life was back to being in shades of grey.

As always he felt the surge of his self-doubt and –loathing surfacing. On some level his twisted psyche almost delighted in the pain of losing her, it's not like he could ever be deserving of someone like her. His arrogance had been his downfall, but what exactly had he done to drive her away? This was the question that plagued his mind with a relentlessness bordering on obsessive. His analytical mind, always so useful in business, couldn't help but hunt for answers that evaded him like smoke. What could he have done differently and why did she hate him so?

The only thing he felt sure about was the night he had a hired gun fuckup Jose. Not even Taylor knew about his covert scheme. As he casts his mind back his hands automatically balls into fists at his sides. He had just learned that Jose dropped Anastasia, leaving her with the trauma of another divorce just before their child was due. That, on top of the slowly simmering anger at the thought of Jose's hands on his Ana made his hatred for Jose glow brighter than ever and he made a very rash decision - to finally teach the fucker some manners.

He should have done it earlier, that first night at the bar when Ana drunk dialled him about the books that he sent her. He just wishes he could have done it himself but that, unfortunately, was way too risky. He had to resort to hiring a guy who did it for him. _It would teach the asshole a lesson, no one hurts his Ana!_ For a brief moment, once it was done, he felt happy because the sweet revenge distracted him from the constant ache in his heart. **He** would never have abandoned her if she was carrying his child. Hell, he was certain that if she remained his, he would never, ever leave her.

Andrea interrupts the dark turn of his thoughts as she knocks gently, stepping into his office, "Mr Grey, Taylor is heading up and I have the brochures here, ready for you to take." Unsmiling he turns enough to thank her with a nod only in profile.

When Taylor strides into the plush confines of his office Christian lifts the box, and with the force of habit, runs through his mental to-do list. "Are you ready to go sir?" Taylor asks, noting with dread that his boss' mood seems blacker than usual.

After a curt reply they head out the door and down the elevator to the waiting Audi. As has become the norm, they make the trip to the airport in tense silence, Christian still unable to shake his miserable frame of mind. When they arrive they drive directly onto the tarmac at Sea-Tac where the Grey Enterprises jet awaits.

Tomorrow his company will be the recipient of an award for the electronics-recycling community programmes that GEH established and funded all across the country. He loathes being in the spotlight of these events but Ros isn't able to go and it's a big deal for them. Another step up the wrung, bringing them closer than ever to making Grey Enterprises Holdings the largest "green" company in the US.

x

As he boards the jet he feels the now familiar trepidation as he enters any space that reminds him of her. The memories flash by and taunt him, especially their wedding day. He remembers undressing her here on the plane, feeling her skin heating under the tips of his fingers, worshipping her body, loving her. The sheer joy he felt, her infectious happiness about the honeymoon, finally going to England. As always these recollections trample over any healing he might have managed. He thought it would ease with time, but so far, not yet.

**A.P.O.V:** I can't help feeling a frisson of excitement. This will be the first time I can take Chris on a modest holiday because I've finally managed to squirrel away a little bit of cash. It's only a long weekend trip but I think a change of scenery will be good for me, a break from the mundane and of course an exciting adventure for my little bean.

I decide to go to Miami, Florida. I'm banking on an important meeting there but as yet, it still needs to be confirmed. I take great care to choose exactly where and when. Though it's extremely unlikely, I can't afford running into Christian, even after all this time. Apart from the strain it would put on my fragile heart my reason is blindingly obvious. One look at my son and he would know, without a doubt, that he is Chris' dad.

With his copper mop and earnest, angelic face the only difference between Chris and Christian are their eyes. Chris inherited my blue ones but that's where his maternal resemblance ends. He's the spitting image of his father and as mercurial, but then, he's only four. My mom is joining us for this long weekend get-away, a welcome helping hand with my busy little boy.

We've never really spoken about what happened between Christian and me, but I suspect that she knows I was too bold, flying too close and got horribly burned by the fiery sun that is Mr Grey.

Chris is between us, eagerly clasping both our hands as we stroll through the Miami Zoo gates. He's excited, his love for all things animal leaving him almost frantic with anticipation. Watching him take in each exhibit, animated and chatty, is just as entertaining as the animals themselves. Stunned at the sheer size of the elephants, he points his tiny finger at them, gawking with round eyes. We stop to watch the zoo keepers feed the ferocious alligators. When they snap their jaws loudly he jumps and giggles. Further on, he squeals with delight at the monkey's shenanigans.

x

As we walk around my eye keeps catching glimpses of a beautifully designed poster strategically placed all around the zoo. It advertises some event related to greening the planet and is to be held here, today, at the zoo's amphitheatre. Vaguely I note that it must be a big deal if they put up so many of them.

Tummies rumbling we decide on a picnic, the emerald hue of the grass and the big shady trees too inviting to pass by. Chris wolfs down his late lunch sandwich then, with his energy restored runs around us, enthusiastically mimicking the silly animal noises. Looking at him I feel coddled in a cocoon of happiness for the first time in a long while. _Yes,_ I think, _he's definitely beginning to heal me._

**C.P.O.V:** In the late afternoon the award for Grey Enterprises Holdings' monumental efforts in the recycling industry gets announced. Graceful as ever, Christian makes his way up to the podium of the impressive amphitheatre that's packed to capacity. The sea of people clap a thunderous applause and he allows himself a glimmer of pride. His company has excelled in this field.

x

"Ladies and gentleman," his voice rings strong and clear, carrying effortlessly to the very back. "Thank you for this magnificent honour. It is Grey Enterprises sincerest hope that as the technology that sprang from these projects becomes widely available, all of industry will follow and we'll finally be in a position to put our planet and its resources on a sustainable track." He lifts the award into the air and the press lap up the money shot, the snap of pictures flashing like fireworks. The audience rises to a standing ovation as the deafening applause echoes off the well-designed acoustics. Walking off the stage and he wonders how happy he would have felt about reaching this very impressive goal if he could share his triumph with her…

After he made the rounds past some tables to shake hands with various well-wishers he catches Taylor's eye. He jerks his chin in the direction of an exit and Taylor cuts through the crowd to join his boss for their departure.

"Sir, if I may?" Taylor stops just meters outside the exit and looks intently at Christian. Sombre grey eyes turn to face him, "Well done sir, what you achieved here today, it's monumental. Please take a moment to savour it." Taylor's watch is burning with sincerity but Christian can also see pity in their depths. He knows that Taylor is the only one who's glimpsed the size of the hole in his heart since she left.

"Thank you Jason," he pauses, "for everything." Christian's gaze slices away from Taylor, effectively ending the moment between them. He's not in the mood to dwell on sentimentality; fuck knows he gets enough of that shit thinking about her. He pushes a distracted hand through his hair, hoping that Taylor isn't going to give him crap about breaking protocol and going for a solo walk. Right now, all he wanted to do was be as alone as he felt. "I'm hungry. I want to take a walk and grab a quick bite. Let's meet back at the hotel, say about seven?"

Taylor was warring with his thoughts – duty VS compassion. As good as he was at his job he also knew Christian and if experience taught him anything, he knew that this wasn't the time to argue with his boss. Picking your battles with a client was a lesson that many close protection agents would do well to learn. Christian wasn't trying to be unreasonable and Taylor understood that constant presence of someone else was a bitch at times, especially if you've lost the will to stay safe. As the thought flew through his head he realised that he'd just nailed the problem but after five years he had no idea how to make it better for the man he respected so much.

Finally, he nodded his assent, albeit with a downturned mouth to let Christian know that it didn't meet with his approval. In a final attempt to enforce what he knew was best for his client he offered Christian the keys to the rental SUV, but he waved it off. "I'll get a cab." He turned on his heel and headed into the direction of the zoo's food court, leaving Taylor to stare after him with a worried frown wrinkling his brow.

**A.P.O.V:** I pack our picnic things back into my backpack and call Chris over. There's still so much to see and without the possibility of returning soon I want to make the most of our day.

He comes running, diving into my arms, "Can I go bathroom with gran?" He asks, his baby blues looking into mine.

"Sure buddy." I turn to find my mom, "Mom, do you know where to go?"

"Yep, I sure do but it's a little way away big man, can you hold it until then?" She asks, holding out her hand for him to take. He looks down and then back up, meeting her questioning gaze as he gives her a serious nod. Sometimes his gestures are so reminiscent of his dad's I have to fight the memories of Christian battering my senses.

"I'll wait here at the bench, in front of the ducks," I add as they turn to leave. My mom leaves me a smile and a wink over her shoulder as they wander off to the restrooms.

I get lost in thought following the fluffy ducklings treading water as I wait for my little family to return. Absentmindedly my fingers trail the back of my neck as they try to sweep away a strange prickling. In a rush of sensation I shiver, chill bumps racing over my skin as a sense of awareness compels me to turn my head. Slowly my gaze comes to rest on a pair of dull-grey eyes that instantly grow and fuse to mine. The spark of recognition so shocking my heart shudders as my belly goes into free-fall. Everything around me disappears in a flash, my unsteady legs just waiting to buckle beneath me.

My mind draws a complete blank and my breath stays resolutely trapped in my lungs. In my ears I hear a river gushing past, drowning out every other sound. Instinctively my hand flies to my chest, clutching a fistful of T-shirt to keep my heart from drumming right out of my body. The distinct chance that I might faint makes my belly flip with nausea.

His utter shock is clear and compounded by his parting lips, accommodating his sharp inhalation. "Ana?" his disbelief is threaded through the gravelly tone of his familiar voice.

My confounded senses and paper-dry mouth only allows me to rasp his name in return, "Christian."

We stand there, suspended in time, as the world passes us by in a blur of motion – unconcerned with the drama of our unplanned reunion. Neither of us seems able to tear away our glued stares. Ever so slowly I feel long supressed emotions popping like bubbles on the surface of my troubled mind. Feelings that I've more-or-less managed to lock away.

For once my subconscious revels in the free flow of emotions. Unable to supress our undying longing for him she whispers our heartbreaking secret. _I love you_ she breathes silently in my head, the echo reverberating through every cell of my being.

He looks so lost, so fragile, and I realise so broken. His beautiful face etched with anguish. He's the first to regain composure. Cutting away his stare he runs first one and then both hands through his hair, undeniably agitated.

When his clouded gaze swings back to me I'm still caught – dumbstruck – incapable of coherency. _What is wrong with him?_ I understand the obvious shock but why does he looks so forlorn? He's handsome face has lost none of its appeal except for the vacant look in his eyes. A moment ago a flare of pain flickered brightly in his eyes but now they're carefully neutral, pools of unrippled mercury. Looking at him now I can almost talk myself into believing that I did the right thing. He is the epitome of unobtainable, untameable male.

I watch as imploring eyes search my face, the baffled slate probing as they seek to find the depths of my shattered soul. His brow furrows, "Why?" he breathes, the note of anguish the thing that finally drags me back to reality.

With reality comes an icy chill that grips my heart - my mom and Chris will be back soon. _I can't let him see Chris!_ My frantic mind scrambles for a plan but just as the fear takes hold my little boy runs into me, throwing his arms around my legs, squealing as he looks straight up at Christian with a shy grin curving his innocent mouth.

Suddenly I'm an outsider, immobile and disconnected. I watch the inevitable scene unfold with a strange detachment. Christian drops his watch as the movement draws his eyes. The spark of recognition is sharp and instant, sending his head jerking back in a double take. Startled eyes dart back and forth, confusion brief before it gives way to comprehension.

"What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?" His cadence is low and soft but the threatening swell of anger bleeds through regardless, making me want to grab my son and run. I'm terrified, shaking with the adrenaline of dread when my mom finally reaches us. She baulks at the sight of us – stopping abruptly in her tracks.

"Carla." Christian acknowledges her with a brusque nod, his expression strained before he lets his furious eyes bore back into my skull.

Despite her obvious distress it only takes her a moment to assess the situation and her protective instincts to kick in. She picks Chris up, swinging him onto her hip and angling her body to keep him away from Christian.

Because she believes that Christian rejected his son she scowls, her mouth turning down in distaste. I told everyone the same lie. If I had any hope in keeping him away I had to provide a plausible excuse for leaving him and find a way to guarantee my family's silence.

"What do you want to do Ana?" her quiet question is laced with alarm, imploring action from me.

"Go mom, I'll see you back at the hotel," I barely look at her, still trapped in his steel stare. She gives us a stern, pointed look. Shaking her head in dismay she strides off with Chris bouncing on her hip. He waves at me with a toothy grin that I return only for his sake. Numbly I lift my arm forcing my limp fingers to wiggle at him. When I turn back it's to face the radiating, angry, powerhouse that is my ex-husband.

Christian's shutters have dropped back in place, his trademark impassive look giving nothing away. I watch his demeanour change abruptly, bristling edgy energy.

"We have to talk," he barks as he takes my hand, dragging me off to the nearest exit. I half run half walk to keep up with his long strides. My ungainly walk matches the disturbed, reeling mess in my mind.

Outside the zoo he hails a taxi with a flowing gesture, a mere lift of his hand. Even cab drivers bend to the force of his will as the first one by slips out of the traffic stream to obey his command. When he holds the door for me I duck inside, sliding across the seat and as far from him as possible.

x

Christian grunts a hotel name at the driver who sets off again, unfazed by his clipped words. From the corner of my eye I watch him staring outside, his elbow resting on the open window. His hand is bent over his mouth and he's wrapped up in deep thoughts, oh so far away from me.

Nervously I wring my hands in my lap but it doesn't take long for the pregnant silence to birth a mountain of emotions that rush at me in a flood. Hot, silent tears roll unchecked down my cheeks. My throat constricts, those sentiments jamming into an immobile lump. _What have I done? _

His passive regard is at odds with the kind handkerchief he produces for my tears. It hangs in his hand like a white flag – of surrender, of peace? Can I take it as symbol of what's to come? Gratefully I pat my leaking eyes, but within seconds it's too drenched to be any help at all. I wring it through my fingers as the tense silence continues to stretch taunt enough to snap.

When we reach the hotel Christian shoves a wad of cash at the cabby. It looks like way too much but he steps out without a backward glance or even a word. Muttering my thanks to the driver I follow Christian out while he waits for me on the curb. He pivots on his heel, striding confidently into the cavernous lobby of the Miami Conrad. I tag along a few paces behind, meekly hanging my shamed head.

x

I avoid catching the professional smiles of the staff I pass on our way to the elevator, hiding my swollen, sodden eyes from their curiosity. At the sight of the lift my subconscious quirks a brow and I feel the heat from an awkward blush. Vividly I remember his touch trailing fire on my skin in its wake.

x

_No_, my mind warns, _don't go there! _I step in first but the moment he joint me it zaps us, the small confines of the car suddenly buzzing with the charge of our attraction. I gasp, utterly stunned. After all this time nothing has changed. He still wields this immense power over me and my slavish body. Electricity cracks and sparks, zinging between us; I can't help risking a curious peek at him. _Does he feel it too?_

I catch his eyelids sliding shut and his nostrils flaring. He tips back his head - as if relishing the sun on his face. When the elevator pings its arrival on the relevant floor, it abruptly breaks the enchantment. Almost imperceptibly he gives his head a small shake before stalking into the corridor with a renewed determination about him. I follow feeling hot and dazed along with all the other tumultuous emotions pounding around in my head.

Once he unlocks the door he steps aside for me to pass. Blinking I look up at his stony face, hesitation rooting me to the spot. I wish I knew what he was thinking, his eyes are ablaze but, as was often the case in our marriage, I can't name the emotion. Silently he motions for me to enter. Helplessly my shaky legs obey when I see irritation darkening his irises.

Halfway into the room I stop, awkwardly waiting in the tasteful open plan living area for his directions. Absentmindedly I toy with the hem of my strappy t-shirt, unsure of myself. He heads straight to the bar where he grabs a crystal decanter around its cut glass neck. The amber liquid sloshes violently, protesting the harsh treatment.

x

"Would you like a drink Anastasia?" I can tell his baritone is deceptively calm as he pins me with those piercing eyes. I almost flinch at the intensity; the sensation of him staring straight into the hell of my soul is jarring.

"Yes…, yes please," I squeak in a hoarse voice, virtually breathless as I remember the way he used to say my name. Lashings of fresh pain strike their blows at my battered heart. The memories as much as the hurt has me staggering back, legs buckling to take me down in an undignified heap. In a dashed stride he's with me, reflexively scooping me up to stop my fall.

Like a ragdoll I hang in his strong arms before he deposits me onto a nearby chair. Flushing with scarlet embarrassment I wish the pillowy depth of the stuffing would swallow me whole. He grips the armrests, slitted eyes staring down at me for what feels like an age while I worry about him hearing the drumming pound of blood through my veins.

In a moment of empathy I get a taste of how hard this must be for him. I can see his mind working, analysing, formulating the questions that must be blasting his brain. Buying himself some time he turns away to collect our drinks. When he hands me the tumbler I take it gratefully. With both hands I cup it, finding comfort in the sound of the jewel-like ice clinking against the facets of the glass. Bringing the rim to my lips I take a gulp, desperately hoping that a sip of the fiery spirits will take the edge off my crippling anxiety.

Sitting down on a wingback chair opposite me Christian chugs his drink in one swift gulp. After a beat he lifts the tumbler to the light with a frown, seeming surprised that it's empty. Setting it aside on an ornate side table he directs his full and penetrating focus to me. He leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his joined hands hanging casually between his legs. His eyes are brighter now, expectant but cautious.

_Tell him the truth Ana,_ _get us some closure_ my subconscious implores. It's the obvious thing to do but I'm drowning in uncertainty and no small measure of terror. I take another bolstering sip as I hunt for words to begin.

"I…., When…., You…." I shake my head, trying to order my wayward thoughts, but I can't seem to string a sentence together. My head is swimming, overrun with mingling feelings as cloudy as pond scum. I send a quick prayer for this to be a dream but the intensity of what I feel tells me otherwise. Dropping my shamed head I watch the carpet pattern blur through my welling eyes.

"Ana?" I hear the despondency in his whispered query but self-preservation keeps my gaze glued to the rug, unwilling to meet what I might find in his face.

I release a shuddering breath, steeling myself against sharing the crushing truth, "I found out I was pregnant with your child the day we moved Ray from Portland to the Seattle hospital. Dr. Greene, she ran into me and asked me why I'd missed four of her appointments," I risk a peek, curious to gauge his reaction, "you know, to get the shot again," I clarify. My nails sink into my palms, angry with myself even now for being so careless.

"She took me to her office and made me do the test. When I saw the strip turn blue and her mouth turn down I knew, I just knew that I would ruin your life with this responsibility." I squirm under his glower, but suddenly I'm keen to put forward my case, I did it for him after all. "The responsibility of a constantly erring wife and a child you weren't ready to have was not something I could do to you." My face relights with flaming shame and I watch my fiddling fingers to avoid looking at him. "I knew you would never abandon us because of your past but I feared that you would only do it from a place of duty, eventually resenting me, maybe even the child."

Again I cast him a quick glimpse to measure his ire before resuming, "I couldn't even remember to take a stupid shot, after everything you did for me, gave up for me, changed for me, I knew I would make a terrible wife to someone like you." I find the courage to meet his gaze, to plead his understanding.

"Besides," my voice is low as I swallow back the burn in the back of my throat, "I always knew that at some point you would tire of me, resenting me for forcing you into being something that you're not. I couldn't do that to you, I…" I falter baring my soul, dry-swallowing again by reflex alone. "I loved you too much." As the words tumble out I'm strangely unburdened from their weight.

Looking up to see his reaction has my breath catching. What I read in his face is unexpected. It grips my heart, squeezing like a vice. He's eyes are glimmering with a sheen of tears. His face is stark, ashen, "So it was me," he grinds, bitterness twisting his mouth.

Cocking my head to one side I gentle my expression. My whole being is aching to console him, but I don't understand, "What do you mean it was you?"

After a moment's hesitation he breaks away from our locked look, "Anastasia, for the last five years all I wanted to know was why? Why did you leave, what did I do to drive you away."

When his eyes dart back to mine he looks dejected. "Now I know. I wasn't able to offer you the reassurance you needed to believe that I loved you and you left, too scared of me to tell me that we had a son. I. Am. A. Monster." He whispers, his self-loathing gripping him in a relentless hold. His mouth thins into a slash, highlighting his disgust.

Watching the claws of self-hatred sinking into him is like icy water sluicing over me. Stunned, I jump off my seat as adrenaline rushes me into action. "No!" I yell, shaking my head vehemently. "How can you possibly think that? Don't you see? You. Are. Too. Good. For. Me. You're everything, romantic, generous, gorgeous, rich, accomplished in everything, how could I ever hold you? Me?" My finger stabs wildly at my chest. "Bumbling around, always stumbling, doing impossibly stupid things, making you mad!" I'm breathing hard, eyes wide with incredulousness.

Suddenly he changes track - mercurial as ever – but now, he's angry, "So you run to Jose?" he speaks the name with utter contempt, grinding it through the clench of his jaw. "That nearly killed me Ana, did you know? The thought of another man touching you…" His voice trails off, shivering with his eyes screwed tight. "You carrying what I then thought was his child. When he left you I nearly….." His pained expression is all I need to paint the scene in vivid colour.

"Why didn't you contact me? Return any of my messages, my repeated pleas to talk to you?" Pushing himself up he runs both agitated hands through his mad hair, beseeching me to answer.

Looking down at my hands again I try to explain "I knew that you would talk me out of it and I told you," my voice is small, low, "I wouldn't… couldn't expect you to make any more changes for me and ultimately for the baby. I … I thought that you would get over me and your infatuation in no time," I make a dismissive, waving gesture with my hand, "and you would see what a waste of time I was."

His eyes are glowing with rage, like the coals of a fire, "For fuck sakes Anastasia, don't **you** understand? Of course I would have tried anything to get you back, to talk you into staying. I loved you! And no dammit!" again his hand rakes a path through his hair, bewildered, "I didn't get over you, can't get over you. I. Will. Never. Be. Over. You!" His words come out sounding like a furious growl. Both hands fist in his hair, tugging in distress.

My breath evaporates, I should be glad to hear that he's not over me, but I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. How ironic, I left because I was scared he would resent me for the baby. Now he resents me for leaving, for breaking him instead.

He paces the floor in the lounge, up and down like a caged, angry lion. The tension radiating off him is palpable, thick enough to slice. Shrinking back, I make myself as small as possible so I can't add to his ire. On a pass he spots me as though he's come out of a trance. He comes to a halt, turning to face me. Hooking a finger under my chin, he lifts my head to meet his eyes. My teeth immediately release my lip as his touch scorches through my trembling body.

"I have a son," he breathes in a quiet voice. His expression is sombre, subdued.

"Yes," I mutter, "a beautiful, clever son that's so much like his dad." My rebellious tone isn't intentional. Nervously I clamp my lip between my teeth as my eyes grow large, waiting for him to strike.

Keeping his finger under my chin, he maintains the small, precious contact between us, drilling his watch into mine. "Who's looking after you? Why are you so thin? Your clothes…." His voice fades out. I know he doesn't want to be rude but he recognizes cheap when he sees it.

I'm wearing the standard "mommy-uniform" - a pair of cotton, three quarter cargoes plus strappy tee, all compliments of Wallmart. "I have a job, I pay the bills." I feel my defiance surge as I glare at him, disconcerted by the sudden change of pace.

When I realize that I've done it again I sigh heavily, "See, this is exactly what I mean, you reach out and I stomp my stupid little foot, unthinking."

He stiffens at my response and again I hear the undercurrent of his self-loathing when he speaks, "I'm sorry," he mutters, "I'm too controlling." He sweeps his eyes away, hiding the turmoil by finding something else to focus his stare on.

My heart thaws instantly as memory recalls why he is the way he is. "Christian, your control, your possessiveness and jealousy was always part of what attracted me to you. I'm horrified that you think you had anything to do with me leaving. I can see now how I acted without thinking of the consequences for you. I was so young, so selfish - it just proves that I am the one that's no good for you." Reaching up I cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at me and the sincerity shining in my eyes.

A strangled moan escapes him, "Oh Ana!" he scrunches his eyes closed, struggling with some internal battle.

When his eyes open I see a flicker of resolution before his strong arms wrap around me, holding on like a drowning man to a life raft. He crushes me against his length, his fevered heat almost burning. It's unnerving to realise that it's where I want to be and my decorum unravels. Tightly I cling back, eager to take the soothing balm his embrace offers for my ravaged soul - and his. Nothing can hold back the break of banked emotions, flooded with feeling I sob my broken heart out against his achingly familiar chest.

x

I don't know how long we stand like this, the enormity of what I did to him - to us - washing over me, making me feel sick. Christian doesn't seem to be okay, he doesn't seem to be over the hurt like I thought he would be. Just like me he seems crushed, so very broken. I try to wrap my mind around how his self-loathing would have made the situation look from his point of view. I wonder if that's why he let the divorce go through without a bigger fight?

The shards of realisation crystallise in my mind while I look back. The memory of being in Dr Flynn's office, me asking if Christian still would have wanted me if he wasn't so broken reel through my mind. I see Dr Flynn's shocked reaction, his suggestion for us to delve into why I didn't think of myself as attractive, as enough, as worthy….

_Is it possible that my own insecurity brought on this heartbreaking split? _I remember feeling so overwhelmed, everything happened so fast, and so much happened - all at once. I got carried away by the tidal wave that was our relationship and I just never found my feet in it.

There were days I longed to have a moment for myself, just to think things through. I never did get that moment. I never did think things through. I never had the time to wade through everything that happened. To analyse, categorise and accept then to file it away in an orderly fashion into my expanding mind. To incorporate and internalise all the new experiences and events into my system and form a new, improved version of myself - maybe one that would have been better equipped to deal with my wonderful new and complicated life.

I had misjudged how my inexperience would manifest itself into the novel world of saturated colour that Christian introduced me to. It's clear to me now that I couldn't think clearly enough to make reasonable, rational decisions. I was barely 22 and so very sheltered. The baby was the ultimate excuse to sabotage something I never truly believed existed.

_He did love me! _Suddenly I feel winded, my insides rolling like a tiny boat on a stormy sea. Breaking free from our embrace I stumble to the bathroom. I reach the toilet just in time and make a spectacular show of throwing up. I can feel Christian behind me, holding my hair off my face and the irony isn't lost on me.

x

This is how it all started….

**Thank you for reading – don't forget to review!**

_*Masters of the Universe was E L James' original name for FSOG when it was still a Twilight FF story_.


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

After the final heaving shudders die down he quietly slips out, closing the door and leaving me on my own with my raw, exposed sentiments. I sit on the cool tiles and wonder what to say to him. Is it even worth apologizing? This is so, so very big. So unforgivable.

I remember how cold he was with Leila when she came and saw me at my office. Will he be like that, treat me with contempt? I'll do almost anything to avoid going out there to face him but I already bailed once before and got it so wrong. I broke us. I'm so dense, a brainless, dim-witted idiot! I rest my head in my hands, despairing.

I procrastinate there, seemingly forever before I pull myself up using the tub for support to stagger to the basin. I take his toothpaste squeezing a pea size blob onto my finger and stick it into my mouth. I take a gulp of water at the same time and swirl it around my mouth for a makeshift mouthwash. I eye his toothbrush longingly but I don't have the courage to use it.

I splash some cool water onto my face then dry myself with a nearby, fluffy towel. I take a long, hard look at myself in the well-lit mirror noting grimly that it shows up all my flaws. It must be a shock for him to see me like this. I've spent less than zero time on myself and my appearance over the last five years. My hair is still long but the well-cut days are long gone. At least it's clean - I defend myself. I just didn't care enough and even I know that I'm way too thin.

I try to draw a deep, steadying breath but it judders out. I look to my subconscious for support but she's hiding, _chicken!_ I sneer at her, _not so snarky now, are you?_

On shaky legs I make my way to the sumptuous living area. _Okay then,_ I give myself a pep-talk and take another necessary breath - time to face my demon. I find him sitting in the lounge looking tense but back in control. He takes me in, slate-grey eyes narrowing in a thorough assessment, fuelling my nervousness. I stand fidgeting and vulnerable - completely at his mercy, owning my guilt with a submissive, contrite posture.

"I'm sorry about, uhm, that." I mumble jabbing my thumb over my shoulder, indicating the bathroom.

When he tells me to sit I do as I'm told, tautly perching on the very edge of the couch. I certainly don't want to piss him off right now. I try to keep my hands still, curling them into each other on my lap.

"What are we going to do with you Anastasia?" His question almost makes me smile but I suspect that this time, it doesn't carry the playful, mock-irritation it used to. An urgent need grips me; I have to make him understand that my stupid, thoughtless actions had nothing to do with him and the way he treated me.

I'm keenly aware that I am going to have to try and explain myself again, this time leaving no room for his blame. "Christian, I don't know what to say." I splay my hands out, palms up and open, my gaze pleading as the gravity of my decision looms so large that it threatens to swallow me whole. _How can I make him understand?_

"Please," I beg, "try to understand," I marshal my thoughts, it's so important for me to make him see. "I don't think that I ever truly believed that you loved me and wanted me. I knew that I couldn't ever hold on to you and then, when I found out I was pregnant, it gave me a reason to stop deluding myself, coupled with my love for you it galvanized me into what I believed - truly believed," I flick him a pointed look, "was the right thing to do for you and our son." The end of the sentence barely scrapes by the cloying lump in my throat.

He eyes me warily, their grey depths pulling me in as I stumble on: "you've always had women fall at your feet, some of them worshipping you. All of them much more suitable for you and your, uhm needs..." I swallow against the memory. "So many beautiful woman that you could choose from. My self-esteem, or lack thereof," my mouth curves into a rueful line as the slant of my eyes turn down, "rendered me incapable of understanding that you could want me - love me. Just like you weren't capable of letting me touch you when we first met." I try reason; maybe using something that he knows and understands will help him gain the insight I will him to have. "Please Christian, it wasn't a matter of choice for me, I didn't choose not to believe, I **couldn't **believe."

I cringe, thinking about what I have to say next. I don't want to tell him, to leave myself this exposed but this is my screw-up and I think it's the only way he'll understand that even though I left, I never stopped loving him and only him. I want him to know that leaving him left me as broken as he still seemed to be.

"I…" I stammer, my conscience rebelling against uttering the secret, "I was only ever yours from the moment I saw you, yours in everything." My look finds a spot on the carpet and I lose myself in it. My hair tumbles over my shoulders, hiding the red mask of my fierce blush. The compounding ache is clawing at my fragile heart as more tears drop onto my shirt. "I'm still only yours." Even though it's a low whisper it sounds loud in my ears.

He sucks in a hard breath, eyes pained and jaw clenching tightly - the muscles there forming little mounds on his chiselled features. I peek up, darting my eyes over his face and a new wave of anxiety flushes through me, _how will we ever get past this?_

The complicated man he is takes something unexpected from my last words and he pounces: "What do you mean Anastasia? You were married again for fuck's sake!" he glares at me, brow knitted in a tight V. "And since then, it's been four years," He holds up four fingers for me to see, "how can you still **only** be mine?"

_Out of everything I just said, is that the only thing he heard?_

He swallows hard, "You had a string of admirers, one more eager than the next to bed you!" He spits out the word admirers with contempt, tasting it and finding it repulsive. The right angles of his shoulders are made more so with his anger.

_Please don't make me say it!_ I lift my head, offering him an earnest glimpse and shake my curls, my teeth imprinting a dent in my lip.

"You. Were. Married. To. Jose. Ana." He enunciates the words ever so slowly, like I'm a child, too young to understand the implication of what I said. When realization dawns in his eyes I have to look away, awash with humiliation.

_Something else I couldn't get right. _I think of Jose with guilt biting into my unsettled belly.

_Not that you wanted it to work out_, my subconscious reminds me.

"Is that why the fucker left you?" Smouldering eyes swirl with a mix of incredulity and something else I can't place. I can only nod and stare down at my fingers. "You never slept with him Ana? A man that I know was desperate to get into your pants. Why? I need to know!" the tone of his barking gruff voice doesn't brook any argument.

I sit there, thoughts miss-lead to my past as I try to formulate a reply.

"Ana, answer me. Please." The unexpected gentleness in his cadence draws me back to him. My eyes snap up to him and my relentless teeth are close to drawing blood. I see the warmth slip away, replaced by the angry scowl I get for disobeying, even after being asked nicely.

He draws a breath, opening his mouth to issue a sterner command but I interrupt with my answer, fearing his ire. "I told you," I sigh, "I've only ever been yours, my body wouldn't, I couldn't... uhm...respond," I drag my shoulders to my ears, I know I can't lie to him so I try again. "I was unable..." I trail off looking for my carpet spot again - anything to avoid those drilling eyes.

In a flash he's up, tracking an irritated path between the door and the chair – again and again. Instead of running through his hair he's fisted patches, knuckles white with strain. Under his breath I hear a repeated mutter, "No, no, no…"

It's always been a challenge to keep up with his mood but I've no idea what's going through his head, I'm lost. I can't even tell if it's good or bad.

He paces past me then abruptly swivels to a grinding stop in front of me. I lift a cautious gaze, peaking up through my lashes. "I'm sorry," I breathe, contrition twisting my heart.

"Oh Ana!" The anguish in his voice palpable, almost solid. "If only you talked to me, trusted me and stayed, I would've come around; we could've avoided all of this." He motions with his hand, his agony in plain view.

"I tried to stay away from you when we first met, I tried to warn you," his focus is slightly off as he recalls the memories, almost looking through me. "But I was too weak Ana, I was too drawn to you. I let myself slip deeper and deeper, I fell in love." His large hands are curled around the curve of my shoulders and he gives me a gentle shake. His cracking voice serves as weighty evidence of the depths of his feeling.

"I tried so hard," there's a gleam of desperation in his watch, just as determined as mine to make me understand, "- so hard to make you see that I loved you; that I was willing, but I failed. I failed to make you see." His shoulders bend with dejection, his head bowed. His tone is that of a despairing man's.

Angry now he gets his second wind. "I can see that you think that you left on your own accord but surely even you have to admit that if your own wife, your wife, Ana!" with his fervent words I get another shake, firmer this time making my teeth rattle while my large eyes take him in. "-Is too terrified to talk to you, to tell you that she's expecting our child and then runs from you, that you failed miserably to give her the reassurance that she needed!" he lets go of my shoulders, arms falling disconsolately by his sides.

I shake my head, my mouth an open O, stunned. I grapple for a reply but I walk straight into the impenetrable wall of his self-loathing. It's warped his mind, amplifying our issues - the things we were working to overcome as a couple when we got married and laid the blame squarely on his unfortunately willing shoulders.

_Shit!_

When I find my voice again I ask the question that I've chewed over for the last five years, "How do you think you would have reacted to the news of a baby?" the note of unguarded aggression is unintended but I'm desperate to put this into perspective for him. We glare at each other, both breathing harder, our bodies writhing with tension.

After a beat he answers, "I would have been mad." His shame leads his look away from mine while a disturbed hand dashes through his hair.

I need to back track, shame is not what I want him to feel. _How can I make him see?_ "Will you stop with the self-loathing crap already?!" I push myself up, drawing to my full height which is still dwarfed by his but it lends credibility to the seriousness of my message.

"This is on me! **Me!** Not you!" my voice climbs an octave with every word as my tension morphs into anger. "Looking back, seeing you like this, it makes what I did even worse. I broke us and I am sorry!" An awful, guttural sob escapes my lips and I sink to the floor, shaking with tears of hurt and frustration. My hands fly to cover my face aa I give in. Gut wrenching crying - five years of suppressed longing and regret all rushing out at once.

I feel his arms wrap around me encouraging my release. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" he's whispering in my ear and stroking my hair, kneeling in front of me. He rocks us back and forth, my head in the crook of his neck and his arms a steely reminder to me of what I've lost.

I'm shocked at the utter mess I've made of things but in spite of it all he's here, holding me, offering himself as comfort. _How can he be here, like this, with me after what I did?_

When I'm calmer he allows himself to sit back on his heels but he presses his forehead against mine, holding me in place with a firm hand on the back of my neck. Our knees are touching. My moist eyes flutter open and in the beautiful dusk light I see a wet trail along his jaw. My heart expands for him as our warm ragged breaths mingle with our closeness. I want nothing more than to kiss those tears away.

Suddenly - out of nowhere - like a match to fuel, a fierce desire tears through me and my body stiffens in alarm. With eyes wide and surprised our lips meet by their own accord, smashing together. Our tongues thrash in a wild dance, devouring, seeking and taking every bit of comfort they can.

My mind wipes itself to a blank slate and our surroundings vanish. I'm only mouth and tongue and taste. Our hands eagerly grabbing hair and bask in the once-lost contact. On our knees like in prayer – worshipping or pleading I'm not sure. Our bodies are drawn up against each other, urgent with the need to become one. I hear him groan, low in his throat.

_Oh, I remember that sexy sound!_ I get a hit of Christian smell, making my insides clench expectantly. _Mmmhhhh_.

My subconscious suddenly shows up, applying the defibrillator paddles to my mummified inner goddess's chest as she shouts _clear!_ She's trying to rouse her back from the dead. I ignore them and apply myself to the moment, soaking up the mind blowing sensations. My body is tingling, responsive and alive again after five long years of winter. His rock hard need for me makes my heart stutter as his hand cups my backside, pressing me into his groin. He grinds his hips, igniting me with an electrifying friction against my sex. I moan against his mouth, shivering while he easily slides me onto the floor as I cling to the strong posts of his arms.

Our limbs are tangled and our hands are roaming in frenzy. I'm hyperaware of him, every point of contact sizzling with memories of his touch. I love the way he pins me down, his weight keeping me in place, reminding me of who's in charge. His flat hand moves from my hip, past my waist and roughly onto my breast, crushing it against me. I buck into his hard caress and reach down to undo his belt, impatient to feel the velvet of his skin. I tug ineffectively and then - out of the blue - he stops, sitting up as if his hot blood just turned to ice.

He looks down at me, panting hard. His face is flushed wearing heavy lids and shadowed eyes. I lay staring up at him, pulse stammering and body raging in frustrated protest. What's he doing? He looks utterly forlorn, his expression hits me with a surge of panic. "Christian what's wrong?"

He gives his head a little shake to clear it, "I don't have any condoms" he says softly, closing his eyes and scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Whoa...what?" I push myself up, resting on my elbows. I feel the swelling of my bruised lips and my body's revolt against our broken connection but as his words penetrate my lust haze I go rigid with shock. The realization is like a fist punching my gut. This mess we find ourselves in is due to an unplanned pregnancy and again, my body's response and need for him is so great that contraception is the furthest thing from my mind! I must be the world's stupidest person.

A disbelieving giggle escapes me, which gives way to a fountain of them. I sit up giggling like a crazed lunatic. At first he glares at me, shaken by my inappropriateness but I can't stop. I'm howling with hysterical laughter, slapping my hand on my thigh.

_Ah, it feels good to laugh, to release all this stored anxiety_. My inner goddess is awake and pouting, staring at me with wild, confused eyes. I see Christian's body slump as he lets go of his pent-up stress and his eyes soften, an uncertain smile pulling at the brackets of his mouth. Finally he gives in and smiles his gorgeous smile, chuckling with me, amusement sprinkled in his beautiful grey eyes.

Slowly we calm down and catch our collective breaths as the unwelcome reality comes creeping back. We settle into a contemplative silence, sitting on the floor in his swanky hotel room when a knock on the door startles us both. With his usual easy grace he rises and offers me a hand up.

"It's Taylor," he answers the question in my eyes and he motions with his head to the door. "We have a… uhm...social engagement." He moves to open it, leaving me feeling completely off balance.

Is he seeing someone, is he meeting her? _Shit, shit, shit! What am I doing?_ I have to go. I look around for my bag and grab it, following him to the door. Moments later I join them and come face-to-face with Taylor. It's obvious that Christian didn't mention my presence because his normally taciturn demeanour falters. Understandable surprise colours his face but the thin, disapproving line of his mouth screams at me in judgement.

He corrects himself quickly but it's too late, it's clear that he's angry and disappointed in me. "Mrs Rodriguez," he nods a cool greeting. Briefly my nervous eyes dart to Christian, registering his flash of distaste at the mere mention of Jose's name.

My feelings are hurt by Taylor's reaction, though I'm not sure what I expected. I always liked him. I'm anxious about Christian's romantic status and I'm ashamed about our crazed outburst of lust. _Great!_ A whole new bunch of shit to deal with in my churning head.

"It's Steele again Taylor." I correct him, my own head nodding curtly back. I need to get away. I touch Christian's arm to get his attention and he turns to me. "I have to go, my mom will be worried."

It takes a moment for him to respond as he asses me closely. "Anastasia, give me a second please." He doesn't wait for my reply, guiding Taylor up the corridor with a hand gesture, out of my ear shot. Christian has his back to me as I stand awkwardly in the doorway waiting for his return and feeling superfluous. I catch myself fidgeting again wondering where we'll go from here. Will he want to meet Chris? Will I see him again? Dare I hope for anything?

He strides back, halting in front of me and looking a little out of his depth as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. Taylor's waiting patiently in the corridor but watching us closely. "Anastasia, there's still a lot we need to discuss but for tonight I'm out of time, I still need to get dressed." He looks down at himself but he doesn't offer any further explanation and my heart sinks a little more. "How long are you staying in Florida, can I contact you?" He's all business again, cool and in control as his practiced mask slips into place.

"We're leaving Monday, late afternoon. I'll give you my mobile number." I rifle through my bag trying to find a scrap of paper. Ever so gently he lays his hand on my arm so I have to look up into his slightly amused face. His head is cocked to one side.

I stop, "What?" My tone is almost irritated.

"Ana, I have your number." He scans my face carefully, to see how I process this information.

_Of course über stalker has my number!_ I want to smack the heel of my hand against my head. How little things have changed. "Um.. Okay," is all I can manage as I look up to him. He nods his head and looks relieved. _Is he relieved that I'm going? _

"Taylor will take you wherever you need to go." I know that tone; it's the you-don't-get-a-say tone.

_Oh no!_ How to handle this? I don't want to be alone with Taylor, especially not in the confines of a car! He's mad at me, doesn't Christian understand? I try my calm, breathy voice: "If you don't mind, I think I'll grab a cab."

"Ana you …" he starts but he stops himself and takes a step away from me, resigned. "As you wish," comes his very formal reply that's congruent with the weary look in his eyes.

_Phew!_ My subconscious mouths at me, brushing the back of her hand across her forehead.

Our eyes lock and I'm swamped with the uneasiness of the moment. Do we hug, or kiss, shake hands? I decide to make the first move - better to get it over with. I go for a timid peck on the cheek just as he moves in to hug me and we end up doing neither as we bungle it up, bumping clumsily. We pull away from our ungainly embrace and he puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me, "Until tomorrow then." I give him a weak smile and turn on my heel, down the corridor and past Taylor to the sanctuary of the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the reviews and feedback, it's very motivating.**

Chapter 3

I eagerly drag a deep, cleaning breath into my lungs as I step outside of the hotel. _Wow, that was intense_. My inner goddess and my subconscious are nodding their heads in agreement, for once not arguing with each other. I hail a cab and dive in, more than ready for a few moments by myself. I guess that it will take me about twenty minutes or so to get back to the hotel so I text my mom, just to let her know that I survived.

***Am OK, on my way***

As I gaze out the window trying to process today's unexpected turn, I become aware of the song on the radio in the cab. It's Adele's Rolling in the Deep. How apt I think: _"We could have had it all…" _

A slowly brewing consciousness focuses my attention on a new anxiety looming in front of me. I'm going to have to tell my mom and Ray what I did. That I lied about why I left Christian. The whole ugly truth is going to come out. I squirm at the unpleasant prospect. Not only did I screw myself out of a husband but I took my son's father away from him. I gasp as fresh tears spring to my eyes, my hand clamping over my mouth. _Stupid, stupid girl! It seems he wanted me after all._

When I arrive at the hotel, I walk through the lobby dragging my heavy heart behind me. I turn when I hear my name being called and find one of the uniformed staff members scuttling toward me, her arm waving in the air to draw my attention.

"Ms Steele, I'm glad I caught you. Your room has been upgraded; the rest of your party has already been moved." She's slightly breathless from chasing after me and her name tag announces her as _Tiffany._

"Uh, I haven't requested an upgrade, I'm sure there's been a mistake," I say frowning as I shake my head. In fact, I was very lucky to find this fortuitous off-season special to stay here in the first place; I could never afford a place like this at full price. It's not quite Christian's standard but it's pretty nice.

_Hold on, wait a minute!_ My scattered thoughts scurry together for the realisation: Christian! How quickly I forgot about Mr I-can-move-the earth and his undue influence. But it's only been what, half an hour since I left his hotel. This must be a coincidence, it's just a mix-up I think and I let out a relieved sigh.

"No mistake Ms Steele," she's shaking her bouncy curls in earnest, "this comes straight from our national manager. Upgrade to our best suite for Ms Anastasia Steele and company, all charges to be billed to…. Grey Enterprises." Tiffany states firmly as she consults her clip board, lifting up the different pages. She smiles a beaming smile at me, clearly thinking that I'm one lucky girl.

_Not a mix-up then._

"Okay then," no point in arguing with her, she is only doing her job. "What floor?" My tone is weary, accepting my fate. I don't know how I feel about this. Mostly annoyed that he's done this without consulting me but at the same time I feel…. flattered. Maybe it's only because of his son I muse; obviously wanting the best for him. At least that's something we have in common. I wonder if it's the only reason as I walk along a new corridor, upgraded key card in hand, counting down doors.

I fumble a bit with the slot and card system but as the door swings open my mom comes bounding up to me. "Are you all right honey?" Her voice is raspy with concern as she takes me in, her hands on either side of my face.

Such a motherly gesture, I think and I suffer a spasm of fear about the news I'm about to share. "Sure mom, I'm fine." I try to reassure her but there isn't much I can hide from her under such close scrutiny. She nods but the concern remains, etched on her lovely face. She moves to the side and lets me in giving me a moment to take in the new suite. Wow, I would be thrilled under different circumstances. She mistakes my look for wonder and grins shyly in response.

"It's pretty awesome," she breathes and she grabs my hand pulling me further into the spacious living area.

I allow myself to get excited for her and I look around. The first thing I see is an open plan kitchen with what seems like every conceivable gadget, then a modern lounge area with a contemporary area rug and over stuffed couches that looks super inviting. There's also a lovely dining area overlooking the hotel garden and the city beyond. The vibrant night lights already winking in the dark through the wall of glass. It's stunning.

I move through to the three bedrooms, each with their own luxurious bathroom. I find Chris sleeping peacefully in the third and I can't resist ruffling his hair - my precious boy. I'm mindful of my guilt nipping at my heart as I look at him. As I softly close the door I catch my mom's eye and it's clear that she's finding it very hard to contain her glee. I know she isn't used to this kind of opulence. Her joy is infectious and as a grin spreads across my face, she stifles a giggle with her hand. It sets me off and we giggle together like two giddy school girls.

I feel slightly more buoyant as our laughing fit subsides and close the distance between us to give her a tight hug. I'm so grateful she's here with me, someone to support me through this particular madness. I just hope that she won't stay mad at me…

"How did he go down?" I ask, referring to Chris and his occasional night-time shenanigans when it comes to his bedtime routine.

"He fell asleep in our other room straight after his bath. I think he was exhausted, little tiger," she smiles fondly. "Half an hour after that I had the hotel manager at the door telling me about the upgrade and I worried about waking and moving him, but the staff was great."

She pauses only to take a breath. "They packed and moved everything and then one of the young guys picked him up and carried him all the way here and put him down in his new bed. I don't even think he knows that he's been moved." She giggles, "He's going to get a big surprise tomorrow morning!" She's already looking forward to that moment. "All in all, it only took about fifteen minutes; they're very efficient!" There's awe in her impressed tone.

"Only the best for Mr Grey," the sarcastic note drags her away from her fun, unease lighting in her kind eyes.

"Oh honey, please tell me what's going on! I feel so confused." She wrings her hands nervously in front of her chest. "I love you so much and I only want what's best for you but you've been so unhappy - for so long. I don't know if I should be happy or upset." Her eyes are boring into mine searching for answers. She takes my hand in hers, squeezing gently. "After what he did to you, to Chris, I don't know what to think of him. He always seemed like such a solid guy but….." her words get swallowed by the sad memory of a pregnant and heartbroken me.

"Mom, I have to tell you some things." I watch her carefully, gauging her reaction and supressing the urge to burst into sobs again. "Some things that I need to get off my chest." I elaborate and push my fingers through hers, lacing them as her expression turns anxious. "But, first things first. Please let me check my e-mail and confirm my appointment for Monday and then I would love a quick bath, just to relax and get my head straight. Will that be okay?"

"That's fine sweetheart." She's guarded now. "Can I make you a little something to eat? We have a whole basket of goodies here," she points to a magnificent fruit, cheese, chocolate and wine basket on the low slung coffee table that I haven't noticed until now. No doubt, also with the compliments of Mr Grey.

"That would be great mom, just something light," I don't think my sensitive belly could stand anything heavy right now. "Why don't you open the wine for us?" I give her a smile hoping to put her at ease. She'll feel better if she has something to do, I know because I'm a mom too.

I go in search of my laptop and call to her over my shoulder, "Which room is mine?"

"The big one darling, you know me, I don't need much." She replies from the state-of-the-art kitchen as she uncorks the wine.

_So sweet, my mom_, I think as I open the big room's door. The laptop is sitting on a small desk in the study nook. I flip it open and sit down on a designer ergonomic chair. _Oohh, yay!_ A super-fast, Wi-Fi internet connection! Thank you Christian! Lately I try to find joy in the little things.

_You've had to start somewhere_; my subconscious takes a swipe at my five year emotional slump.

I click on my e-mail icon and relish the slight acceleration of my heartbeat. This possible meeting for Monday could change my world forever and I'm keen to check that the arrangements have been confirmed.

_Oh-uh!_ My eyes are saucers and my Monday meeting temporarily forgotten because I have an e-mail from Christian! _How did he get…?_

I start to speculate but stop short, interrupted by the harpy. _Of course he has your e-mail if he has your number and knows which hotel you're staying in! _I have to concede the point. _Stalker!_

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Your suite_

_Date: 15 October 2016 19:20_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_I have taken the liberty to upgrade your suite and I recall your previous reservations concerning these gestures. As you are now the mother of my son I shall not entertain any arguments regarding these matters. _

_I will be available for a meeting with you tomorrow. Please let me know what time would suit. We can meet at my hotel again and I will send a car for you._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

Oh. My. Holy. Cow! I've no idea what to think of the tone of his e-mail. As always it's formal but that he wants to see me on my own surprises me. _In his room or some public place? _I wonder, my imagination getting the better of me_. _The mother-of-my-son-bit is another telling little clue though I've no idea what it implies. I can't decide if it's about Chris or me or both of us. I rest my elbows on the desk, resting my head in my hands. Here we go again. _Rollercoaster!_ My confused feelings only highlighting how much I still care about him. I need to formulate a reply, something to lighten the mood but maintain the decorum.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: The suite_

_Date: 15 October 2016 19:41_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Christian_

_Thank you for your largesse, your son will appreciate it when he wakes up. I can meet you any time from 10:00am tomorrow. I will make my own way there and I shall not entertain any interference from you regarding this matter._

_I do hope that you enjoy your social engagement._

_Anastasia Steele_

I hit send feeling satisfied with the pitch of my reply. My subconscious nods her agreement in a rare moment of amicability but my inner goddess has a scowl on her face, no doubt that she wanted me to write a declaration of love. I snort at her, _crazy girl!_ I scroll down looking for the mail that I was hoping to find when I first opened the program.

_Ah-ha! Yes!_ I see it. I click excitedly on the subject line.

_From: Julie Logan_

_Subject: Meeting_

_Date: 15 October 2016 08:57_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Ms Steele_

_Thank you for your reply. We are thrilled that you are considering our offer. I look forward to meeting you on Monday the 17__th__ October at 9:45 at our company headquarters. Please see directions attached._

_Kind regards,_

_Julie Logan_

_Commissioning Editor: Buy the Book Publishing Company_

_Miami_

_Florida_

I jump up and fist-pump the air. "Yes!" I say and let the "s" hiss through my teeth. I do a little victory dance around my room then stop abruptly, blushing beet red as I catch my mom looking quizzically around my door. Thankfully amused.

"Ah… I um… I'm just happy that the meeting has been confirmed." I feel goofy and a tad embarrassed.

"That's so great honey!" She's beams at me, sharing my joy. "This will be so good for you, do so much for your self-worth."

I groan inwardly as she brings up our most debated topic, it makes me cringe. I always want to duck under the bed when she brings it up. _Self-worth, schmelf-worth! _But I can't stay annoyed, this is good news I think when I hear another ping indicating a new e-mail. Mom gives me a loving look before leaving again. I sit down, feeling apprehension tighten the knot in my belly as I spy a new e-mail from Christian.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Your suite_

_Date: 15 October 2016 20:07_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_You are frustrating as ever. You are welcome; it's the least I can do. I will see you at 10:00am sharp. I will meet you at The Bar at Level 25._

_My social engagement is still ongoing._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_Okay then!_ If I thought I was going to glean some insight into what he's thinking I was sorely mistaken. _The least he can do?_ What's that supposed to mean? A bar, at 10:00 in the morning? The silver lining is that his social engagement is still ongoing and I don't think that he'll be e-mailing me if he was with another woman in a romantic setting.

_What __**do**__ you want Ana?_ My subconscious dares ask the question that I am trying so hard to sidestep in my mind.

What would I do if he drops to a knee and declares his undying love to me or, if he tells me that we'll have to be friendly for Chris's sake and he wants to be part of Chris's life. What if he tells me that he wants nothing to do with me, that I wrecked our lives and that he never wants to lay eyes on me again?

The blast of pain from the latter option has me reeling. I obviously still love him, very much. Can I dare to hope that we will get back together? Do I want to foster hope with a good possibility of being let down again? _No,_ I shake my head – vehemently, it's much better to keep my expectations as low as possible. My heart couldn't stand any more breaking.

I snap the laptop shut and head for the bath. I flick on the taps and pour in the complimentary bubble bath, some swanky designer brand that I don't know. It smells divine. This is going to be such a treat. I'm definitely going to need a glass of wine to get ready for 'the talk' with mom so I head to the kitchen for some liquid courage.

"Mom, Christian wants to meet me tomorrow morning, to talk some more. Will you please take care of Chris for me?" My tone is sombre as I try to play it casual.

"Whatever you need Ana." She hesitates for a moment holding my gaze, "Doesn't he want to meet Chris?" Her question is tentative, as Chris's grandmother and my mother I sense that, for her, this would be his worst sin; if he decided not to keep contact now that he's seen his beautiful son.

"I don't know mom, we still have so much to discuss." I must remind myself that she doesn't know that he only found out about his son today. She nods and looks unseeing down to the magazine on her lap, lost in her own thoughts. I collect my wine and steal to the bathroom.

The bath is glorious but all too soon it's time to get out. I have to face my mom and the consequences of my thoughtless stupidity. I dry myself with the warm, fully white towels before I wrap myself in the complimentary robe. I stop by the kitchen for a refill before forcing myself to face my rash decision.

My mom is still in the same place on the couch and smiles encouragingly at me when I join her. "Mmhh, these couches are comfy…" I try to stall with some small talk but her look is too expectant to ignore. If only she knew….

_She'll know soon enough - _Ol' snarky face rears her mostly unpleasant head.

Better to start with some background I think - to provide her with some context. "Mom remember when I first met Christian and I was reluctant to start a relationship with him? I found him so closed off, like I couldn't read him." I swing my gaze to her, reassured that she's following me so far. "Everything about him was intimidating and he was so stunningly gorgeous. Women throwing themselves at him where ever we went. He was rich, generous and I didn't know how to handle any of it." My mom is listening attentively, oblivious as I start my dark confession.

"I was so young and apart from what I've read about romance, I knew nothing about it or real life. I came from a broken home," I don't want her to feel bad but it's how things were, "my world view on love was jaded at best." I draw a long breath to give my thoughts time to organise themselves.

My mom's eyes are warm, willing me to continue, only a slight frown marking her brow. "And you, more than most, are aware of my insecurities and that I overthink everything to death." She nods her agreement, choosing to remain quietly supportive of my unburdening.

"And as you got to know Christian before we got married, I recall from what you've told me, that you picked up on a couple of things. You mentioned how controlling he could be and how very charming and persuasive." I give her a crooked smile as I look into her warm regard. "He was very hard to resist."

Again she nods, still blissfully unaware of the bomb I'm about to drop. "Do you know how many changes he made to himself for me, to accommodate me? I didn't ever feel that I deserved it, that I was good enough." My eyes glaze over as I stare into the past, fingers toying absentmindedly with a fringe of a scatter cushion.

Her frown deepens at my words. "Oh mom, I was completely overwhelmed by him, sometimes even frightened of him. I got swept up in the heady mix of first romance and love. It all happened so fast." I drop my eyes at the flush creeping slowly up my neck. "I never believed any of it – for myself. It was like I was in an amazing dream but I fully expected to wake up one day and return to my regular life."

"Oh, honey, I never knew." She reaches over and strokes my hair, taking a tress and pushing it back over my shoulder.

The kind, motherly gesture is almost my undoing. I hold my breath for a beat, hoping that maybe she would put two and two together and I won't have to say it out loud. _Come on mom_, I will her but she's waiting patiently for me to continue.

I sigh once more, resigned to plough on. "When I fell pregnant," my voice turns low at the emotion choking me, "I was too scared to tell Christian. I knew it was way too soon and I knew that he feared being a parent because of his own past." I'm whispering now, perhaps if I say it softly it won't come as such a blow.

I see her flinch and I quickly continue, before she interrupts, "Please remember mom that I wasn't capable of believing that I deserved this princess life with him, this fairy-tale." My voice has taken on a whining quality, my whole being already begging her to understand.

_Do it!_ The harpy hisses at me through clenched teeth.

_Cow!_ I throw back at her.

"I never told him," I finish simply, unable to meet her eyes as the shame swallows me whole.

I hear her sharp intake of breath, "You never told Christian that you were expecting his child?" the incredulous bite is unmistakeable. "But you told me - you said that he kicked you out because of the baby, that he wanted nothing to do with you." She's still holding on to the hope that she somehow misunderstood me.

I can only shake my head, and confirm the worst. What can I say? _Nothing!_ Not one word can fix this. I keep fretting with my fingers in my lap.

"Ana!" Her voice is sharp and angry. "I saw the two of you together; I've never seen a man more in love, besotted even! How can you **not** have seen it? I know that he told you that he loved you - all the time. I know the ways he showed you! Hell Ana, those wedding vows he wrote for you were just…. They left me speechless!" She's on her feet, looking down at my shamed form, gesticulating like a wild woman.

"Why would you do that, why did you lie to me? I can maybe understand why you lied to him - if you were really that scared of him - but why lie to me and Ray and heavens! What about poor Jose?" she throws her hands up in the air while her fuming words rush at me, everyone a new blow as the extent of the consequences begin to bleed through my very flimsy pretence.

She draws a breath only to relaunch her attack, "How could you have been scared of him anyway, he adored you Ana, even I know that he would never hurt you! What were you thinking?"

My throat feels like sandpaper and my breath, short. I honestly don't know what to say. I look up at her, to show her the contrition in my eyes but something else registers on her face first and I know that she's grasped the worst of it. "You kept a father from your son!" She spits out the words with disdain, almost growling as she points an accusing finger at me. Her usually smiling mouth is an ugly scowl.

_Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!_ I begin to panic. I can't even defend myself, I know what I did was inexcusable. "What I did…. it was horrific and unforgivable," I manage to squeak weekly. A chill has settled over me, burning me from the inside.

"Oh Ana!" She sags back onto the couch, seemingly exhausted and tearful as the enormity blankets around her. "Why did you lie to us?" Her red rimmed eyes are pleading for an answer.

"Christian would have found me and changed my mind. If you would have given him any information about me, he and his security team would have found me and I believed I was doing the right thing. I couldn't let that happen. If I told you the truth you would have told me to talk to him, to work it out, to give it time." With hindsight those words sounds like good advice but now it's way too late.

I'm eager to give her a glimpse into what I was thinking, I know I can't expect sympathy but it would be so good for someone to understand what I was going through. "I felt I couldn't invest any further in something that would blow up in my face and leave me as broken as he was when I met him."

_Please, please understand mom_, I beg in my head. "I felt that I forced him into being something that he wasn't and that he would eventually resent me for it." A fractured sob escapes me, finally releasing this horrid secret but also aware that I'm treading close to information that I couldn't ever divulge. There's still a lot about Christian that she doesn't know though it would explain a lot if I could share it with her.

"Oh you stupid, reckless baby girl!" Her motherly instincts take over as she sees my utter desolation and she comes closer to comfort me. I feel immensely grateful as I sense her heart softening. She takes me in her arms and we sit there embracing as we cry together.

Once we've stilled she lifts my head in both her hands and she stares deep into my swollen eyes. With her thumbs she wipes the wetness off my cheeks. "You really fucked this up Ana, you need to make it right." The epithet shocks me. I don't think I've ever heard her swear. She's so serious, burning with the intensity of her statement.

"I know." I don't know how but I know that I do.

She lets out a long, shuddering, post crying breath: "I'm going to bed now, get some rest and we'll think of something in the morning." She pats my back and shuffles off to her room. The curve of her shoulders seems to bear the weight of my newly exposed secret.

_Holy hell, that was rough!_ I exhale an extended, juddering breath. I don't know how much more of this emotional torture I'm can handle. My nerves are grated and ragged - beyond exhausted. I suppose I should try to get some sleep but I doubt my overactive mental chatter and the large knot in my stomach will allow me the luxury.


	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

Instead of rolling around, fighting with the sheets I surprise myself by falling asleep quickly but I dream a hundred dreams. Dreams of what could have been, of Chris and Christian playing in a park, Christian loving and cherishing me, of sunshine and meadows and happy laughter. It taunts and teases me with endless, happy possibilities and my blooming melancholy flowers into a gripping sadness.

I wake up in a torrent of tears, my ears and pillow wet from weeping and both my hands are pressed to my heart in a bid to hold the breaking pieces together. The clock is blinking furiously, a witching hour at 04:27am. I turn on my side, staring into the darkened room that seems to match the shade of my soul. In a moment of weakness, of utter desolation I break my unspoken rule and allow myself to look back on happy times with Christian.

Every clue was there. The way he made love to me, the way he said my name, the way he changed for me, his overprotectiveness and his jealousy, his desire to give me the best of everything - things I didn't even know I longed for. I think back on the many times that he told me, in absolute and clear words that he cared. The recollection brings with it a myriad of erotic images and for the first time I see us as others would have seen us; completely caught up in one another, unable to deny the fire that burned so wild, so untamed between us. It's a startlingly bright revelation.

As these memories wash over my psyche, a slow and sexy desire begins to curl through my body, spreading, melting and warming in its wake. Yesterday a slumbering tiger roused by its keeper, now demanding and hungry. I hear my own breath excited as I slide my hands over my now, sensitised body. I've never done this before - take to my own flesh like this. There was never any need pre-Christian and when I left him, my desire stayed behind along with him and my shattered heart.

_You can do this,_ my inner goddess is smiling her encouragement.

My subconscious' hiss is disapproving; _he's not going to like it_.

But he's not here I think longingly. I run my hands over my breasts, pausing to feel the erect nipples under my timid, exploring fingers. I softly circle my flattened palms over the mounds and feel the exquisite tingling zip down my belly and into my groin. I pinch the straining buds firmly, between my thumb and forefinger, the sweet sting ripping a silent cry from my throat, it makes me want more…..

Bolder now I slip my right hand into my sleep shorts where I instantly connect with the live wire in my sex. My body shudders as it recalls the delicious sensations it's capable of. Vaguely I hear my own moan as my finger gently circles my clitoris.

With my eyes closed I recall his touch, his finger sinking into me then sucking off my slick desire. I can almost feel his teeth on my lip, my jaw and his hot breath on my feverish skin. The other hand is working my breast, kneading and squeezing, worrying my aching nipple. It sends the rhythm of my right into overdrive.

_Ah!_ His mouth on me, hot and wet. The look in his eyes as he watched me yield in fevered response and I surrender – effortlessly. My body taking over, my back arcing a bow. Everything clenches, stiffening as my orgasm quakes through me.

I'm an autumn leaf falling from a tree; gently the soft breeze carries me back to earth. _Whoa!_ It's not Christian-induced pleasure but incredible none the less.

_Remind me why I walked away from that?! Oh, yes, my damned insecurity! _I scowl at myself._ What am I going to say to him today? What do I want? _

In my lovely, sated, jelly-bone state I flip through these thoughts in my mind. I want him back I admit to myself. That's the plain and simple truth of it. I should never have left but I did. I can't change that no matter how much I'd like to but I can't deny that I want him, any way I can get him. I smile at the words he once said to me floats through my mind. I want him to love me and our child and with that, the seed of a plan slowly unfurls to life.

My realisation galvanises me into action. Time for a pampering bath, best to look well groomed and irresistible. Apart from a good all-over exfoliation, I have to shave my legs and pluck my wayward eyebrows back into submission. In hind sight I'm glad we didn't end up devouring each other yesterday. Spikey leg hairs coupled with practical, cotton undies doesn't exactly pave the way for unbridled passion.

No more "mommy-uniform" around Christian. I'm so glad that I couldn't decide what to wear to my proposed meeting and ended up packing two of my good dresses.

_Your only good dresses_, my subconscious reminds me snidely.

I ignore her. I might even be lucky enough to get a quick haircut before I meet him, I passed a hairdresser in the lobby downstairs.

In front of the bathroom mirror I stand stark naked. I hate to do this to myself but it's time for an honest appraisal. I'm half keen, half afraid to see what Christian sees when he looks at me. It's been a long while since I've had a hard look at myself - why would I? Thankfully my body survived pregnancy well. My breasts are still nice and full, if anything, a little bigger. Surely that can't be a bad thing.

I tilt my head to the side and continue my stocktake. My belly is almost as flat as it used to be but not quite as taut. The emergency caesarean scar is barely visible through my pubic hair, the line faded to a soft pink. Mostly I look the same I muse as my critical eye roams my bared reflection. I guess that's the great thing about having a child at such a young age. I'll always be pale but I don't like to way my eyes seem so large and my hip bones jut out when I'm this thin. I need to gain a few pounds to fill out the empty curves.

After my vigorous beauty regime I take over the kitchen to make a start on breakfast for us. It's just past six now and Chris will be up soon, I wonder what he'll make of the new room.

Right on cue I hear him call, "Mommy, moooommmyyyy!" the note of anxiety in his little voice understandable.

A few hurried strides takes me to him, "hey big boy. Don't fret, how did you sleep?" my soothing mommy-voice is instinctive and on hand to calm him.

"What happened to my room?" His look is relieved but still surprised as his large eyes look trustingly into mine.

I slide into his bed and pull him into the circle of my arms, "We moved last night after you went to sleep buddy. Gran and I thought you might like this room better." I'm smiling into his hair as he bands an arm around my neck.

"Does it have any animals?" He breaks free from my embrace as excitement lights his innocent face.

I laugh, "No buddy but it does have a big TV with Discovery Channel and a few that only has cartoons!"

"Wow mommy, can I see, can I please mommy, can I?" He's already running to the lounge.

Reluctantly I shove off the bed, following in his energetic wake. He runs around, exploring every corner then finally gives it all his stamp of approval. His grin is wide as he takes in the big screen with me flicking through the boggling choices.

When he settles for Discovery featuring African meerkats I sit with him, watching for a few minutes. We giggle together at their funny antics, it leaves me with a bitter-sweet sentiment clutching my heart, I so want Christian to have this - to share in all the fun and love a child can bring. I want Chris to have his father.

"Are you ready for something to eat bud?" I ask him.

"Uh-huh" and a small nod is all I get from him. He's totally engrossed as the screen flickers across his glued features.

Just as I finish laying the table my mom makes a bleary-eyed appearance. Suddenly weary, I feel unsure where I stand with her after last night's full disclosure. I give her a tentative, testing smile and for a moment she just looks at me, an impassive arrangement on her oh-so- acquainted face. My nerves give way to proper anxiety, forcing me to ask, "Are we okay mom?"

"Oh honey, I've made some stupid choices in my life. Husband number three probably the biggest," she says dryly and flicks me an arched brow. "Who am I to judge and besides, I can never stay mad at you. At least you have the opportunity to try and fix your mess. But please," her one hand rests on my shoulder and the other is tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, "I need you to promise me that you'll do everything you can to make this right!" She sounds quite stern, her usual soft voice steely with her demand.

"I will mom; in fact, I'm already working on a plan." I give her a wink with a smile, hoping to both lighten the mood and reassure her.

"It's not going to be easy." She warns and shakes her head sadly, "What you did is damned near unforgivable. I just want to make sure that you know how important this is and not only for you." Her eyes dart to a blissfully unaware Chris.

"I know mom," the shame follows quickly, stinging my cheeks, my rash decision beginning to reach well beyond my wildest expectations and it leaves me uncomfortable. _Just how far is this going to ripple out?_

"Okay then," she concedes, still eyeing me dubiously.

"I'm just about ready with breakfast, take a seat, I'll bring you some coffee." I'm keen to get away from her scrutiny to pull myself together.

We all sit down and enjoy a pleasant breakfast, mainly because Chris is sweetly entertaining as he tells us about the meerkat's adventures. It's hard not to be swept up in his wide-eyed enthusiasm.

After breakfast I place a call to reception in the hope of securing an emergency haircut. I'm stunned at my luck; maybe this will mark a turning point for me. I snap up the 08:30 appointment with e renewed sense of optimism.

My hair is shiny and smooth; I watch it ripple around me as I look this way and that in the hairdresser's mirror. "Good job," I smile appreciatively at her reflection. When I settle the bill I suffer a serious pang of guilt, I shouldn't be spending money that I don't have.

A quick dash takes me back up to our room where I change. I choose a striking black and white wrap-dress with hot pink detail and capped sleeves. It's a cotton/lycra blend so it clings to all the right places. It's feminine and flirty and sits just above my knee. I'm grateful that it's a designer brand even though I got for a steal at a sample sale.

I pair it with delicately strapped black heeled sandals and leave my hair loose in a wild mane around my face. Lip-gloss and lashings of mascara finish the natural look. At least I look rested and I'm still nicely flushed from my early-morning glory.

_Mmhh, might have to do that again or better yet, get Christian to do it for me….. _

_You're getting way ahead of yourself_; my subconscious puts me in my place. She's right of course; I **should** watch my expectations carefully.

I borrow my mom's perfume and spritz it all around me. It's light and floral with a hint of sexy musk. I know only too well how evocative a smell can be, Christian's must be one of the sexiest things about him.

I know I look good from my mom's reaction. She hasn't seen me this dressed-up in years. She gives me a wolf whistle and Chris claps his hands with glee, "Mommy, you look pretty, like a princess," he hugs me around my legs. My heart melts; high praise indeed, _what more can a mommy ask for?_ I ruffle his hair and bend down to give him a tight hug.

"You look gorgeous honey, try not to cry, men always get nervous around a crying woman." Is her parting wisdom to me as I head out to my date with destiny.

It's Sunday so the traffic is mercifully light. I mentally run through the things that I would like to project today. I want to appear confident but still show Christian that I'm deeply sorry. I want to show him that I've changed, that I'm more mature and better able to handle the things that he and life can throw at me.

I want to steer clear of his self-loathing and try to coax out the happy, carefree Christian that I know is hiding in there somewhere. I'm still not sure how I'll handle any questions about Chris, especially if he wants to meet him. I think that I might have to gauge his mood in the moment and make an effort to be as accommodating as possible. He is Chris' father after all. I hope fervently that he has gotten over the worst of the shock.

Most of all I don't want to fight with him. I'm going to make a monumental effort to stay calm and not to cry. Even though I've spent some time on my appearance to entice him, I don't want us rushing into bed, only to regret it later.

If all goes to plan we have to work up to that, give us time to heal, maybe even start dating like regular people. Perhaps if we didn't go from zero to a hundred miles per hour in two seconds flat, like the last time, we wouldn't be in this situation. I'm feeling reservedly optimistic but the butterflies in my stomach are frantic.

The cab is another unwelcome expense but what can I do? There was no way I could take Christian up on his offer to send Taylor, his disapproving stare is more than I can handle right now.

Once I'm on the sidewalk in front of the Conrad I smooth my dress over my thighs and suck in a deep breath. The yogic mantra I repeat in my head is calm in, nerves out. I walk into the hotel and follow the signs to the Bar at Level 25. When I stride through the arched doorway the familiar pull crackles and sparks as our gazes meet.

My heart stops and starts, riveting me to the floor. His hooded, grey eyes betray his surprise, possibly because I look so different from yesterday. He's his usual stunning self in crisp white linen shirt and perfectly fitting jeans. I feel a slight surge in my confidence and amaze myself with poised grace as I move with to meet him.

My inner goddess is dressed in a red sheath, laying on a black piano singing a breathless, sexy tune. Her bedroom eyes are fluttering seductively at him.

He takes charge of our greeting - no fumbling like last night. He places a hand on my elbow and leans in to kiss me softly but full on the lips. My palm goes up to meet his chest and I feel him stiffen in response so I keep my touch light. Our cautious reunion gives way to astonishment as a quick succession of flashes blind me momentarily. When I regain my vision I see the back of a guy in an ill-fitting suit beating a hasty retreat.

"Fucking paparazzi!" Christian spits in disgust. "You'd think that in a place like this you'd be free from prying trash." His eyes are cloudy with his irritation. It takes him a long minute before he comes back to me.

When he does his focus is intense, taking in every detail. "You look lovely Anastasia," his voice is a caress to my name, a slight ripple marks his forehead as his head cocks to one side, like he's trying to figure me out.

My blush is not far behind as I simper my thanks. My subconscious is looking terse, peering at me from above her winged spectacles. _Schoolgirl!_

"Please, sit." Ever the gentleman he pulls out an oversized wicker chair and I sit on the edge, my ankles crossed and back straight. I smile up at him and notice the humorous curve of his gorgeous mouth.

Our table is a small square surrounded by four chairs. I expect him to sit opposite me but instead he chooses the chair next to mine and I elect to take it as a sign. A good one. He rests his elbows on the table and steeples his hands in front of his mouth, lightly tapping a finger on his lip. "You seem relaxed, glowing even," he narrows his eyes at me and tilts his head again, ensuring the pink flush racing over my cheeks.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you got laid," he's wearing a sphinx -like smile, indecently flirtatious and extremely unsettling.

_What the….? Hang on a minute, this conversation is outrageous! He should be reserved, formal maybe even angry but instead I'm facing Mr Playful. And another thing, how the hell does he know?_

Immediately my smile slips away along with my eyes that find the floor. I don't know what to say, "I…. uhm…" I stutter as I squirm in my seat, the pretty pink flush has turned an alarming shade of red.

"Anastasia, do you have something to tell me?" Instantly Mr Playful is replaced by Mr Angry. His voice is menacingly soft, his eyes hard as flint. He clenches his jaw, trying to hold onto his fraying temper.

I'm frantically fiddling with the napkin in my lap as it occurs to me that he must think that I've had actual sex. "It's not what you think!" I squeak, eager to correct him but dying of shame. I'm not brave enough to face his wrath.

"Then you can enlighten me. Maybe you fail to recall that I was married to you. You don't forget the flush of your first and only love's face after pleasure." Strangely this strikes me as such a romantic thing to say but I know from his tone that he's barely holding it together; his look alone could melt the polar ice caps.

_Dammit! This is not how I wanted this conversation to go._

I watch my plan take a nosedive, crashing and burning. _Why am I always on the back foot with this man?_ My fear of his mood makes me talk. "Yesterday when we… I was…" I shake my head, embarrassment steals my words.

_Please, please can we rewind?_ I think before my discomfort morphs into anger, _who the hell is he to tell me what I can and can't do? He's the one that unlocked this beast in the first place!_

"I…I touched uhm, myself….. this morning….. if you must know," I take on a haughty lilt, my irritation clear and my humiliation complete.

He pays no attention to my tone. "You did?" He sounds surprised as his head whips back, regarding me with an amused slide of his lips. "Why?" His voice has turned soft, even coaxing, eyes smouldering with heat.

_Jeez, how embarrassing!_ "What do you mean why, you know why!" I spit and hide my eyes again.

He regards me for a moment, a long finger tapping thoughtfully, "Mmh, yes. I guess I do." Thankfully he picks up a menu and pages through it with a casual indifference that leaves me fuming and a little breathless.

_What does that mean?!_ I'm so out of my depth here.

A waiter appears at our table, acknowledging us with a polite nod. Christian halts my riotous thoughts with a question, "What would you like to eat Anastasia?"

Instead of answering him I direct my order to the waiter himself, requesting a small fruit salad and English Breakfast tea. I'm way too mad to talk to him right now.

_What happened to being accommodating and calm? _My subconscious voice is dripping with sarcasm. I hope my answering glare will get her to back off.

Christian orders an omelette plus coffee and once the waiter leaves his eyes are on me again. "Tell me Anastasia, is that a habit of yours now, pleasuring yourself?" He's still grinning, obviously enjoying my discomfort.

I groan, _can the floor please open up and swallow me now?_ I have to nip this conversation in the bud; I refuse to have this conversation with him - _Bastard!_ He's eyes are laughing at me in spite of my obvious distress - it's infuriating!

"Not that it's any of your business but no, and I am not going to discuss this any further!" I glare at him to emphasise my point just as my stupid, uncooperative face betrays me with fresh blush.

I try desperately to steer us onto a new topic. "I thought we were supposed talk about where we can go from here. I wanted to see if we could work out a mutually agreeable path but it seems that you're not taking this seriously. At all!" _Can we please get back on track?_ I plead in silence.

He holds up both hands in surrender and chuckles to himself. "Okay, okay, I see that you've displaced your sense of humour this morning, let's get on with the business at hand shall we?" He's trying to keep a straight face, sucking in his cheeks to stop himself from smiling.

_What's going on with him? Has he lost his marbles? Why the fuck is he so happy? _

I'm at a complete loss. I was expecting many things today: anger, fury even, resentment, a whole lot of serious conversation and possibly some grovelling on my part but I am **not** prepared for playful Fifty. I open my mouth to speak but snap it shut again, the sound drawing his attention back to me.

_So much for the best laid plans! _

A flash of worry crosses his face as he takes in my expression, "Anastasia, what's wrong?" He reaches across the table and places a warm, comforting hand over mine.

"What's wrong you ask? What's wrong?" My incredulous voice climbs in pitch, almost to a whine. I snatch my hands away from his hold, instantly agitated. "Yesterday I had the shock of my life, running into you like that, and I'm sure it was a shock for you too. Yet here you sit, joking and…and flirting with me like nothing's happened!"

He eyes me wearily, the shutters coming down to hide the emotion in his eyes. His hands glide across the table, back to his camp as he leans against the chair. "What more do you want us to say? We were both incredibly stupid. I failed you on so many levels and you ran away, hiding our son from me." His timbre is dry and his expression, grave as he summarises our past into a neat little sentence but to me it's plain that he still doesn't understand.

I realize that his self-loathing is working in my favour right now. He obviously feels that we are equally to blame and if that's the case, he will probably find it much easier to accept my transgression and forgive me. Maybe that's why he's so happy, he thinks we can just drop it and start fresh. He clearly wants too; he wouldn't be flirting with me if he had no interest in reconciling. _Could I use this? Could I use his brokenness to fix us?_

Both my inner goddess and subconscious are shaking their heads. A rare moment of complete agreement. _No, I made this bed, I have to take responsibility._

I gather my wits and try to formulate a clear and concise statement to penetrate the deep layer of self-loathing that obviously still fogs his brain. "Christian, I still feel that you haven't listened to me." My voice is quiet and determined as I will him to follow my train of thought. "I was incapable of seeing what we had, not uncertain, not unsure but **incapable,**" I emphasise the last word, peeking up to measure his response.

"It was my issues, my own insecurities stemming from not believing in myself. Maybe if I had done something to earn your love I would have felt more capable of accepting it." My gaze finds my fidgeting fingers in my lap, obscuring the pain in my eyes. I force myself to breathe through the torrent; _I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry._

"For fuck sake Anastasia! This is then, all over again. You're the one not listening!" He bangs his fist on the table and the cutlery protests by jumping out of their laid places; his eyes bright with fury. "Today, meeting you here, trying to lighten the mood, I was trying to give us a break! Making better choices, that's what we should be talking about. But if you are determined to bring this up then let's go there! We both fucked up but I still maintain that my failure is far greater than yours." He's running a hand through his hair as he tries to manage his distress.

_Holy cow! This is not a competition!_ I gape at him, my jaw almost dropping on the table. _How is he still going on about this?_ I curse his self-loathing.

"This is where your usual sharp intellect lets you down". His cold eyes bore into mine, slate grey into ice blue.

_What?!_

"You still don't see the effect you had one me. You say that you didn't want to make me into something that I wasn't, referring of course to that fact that you didn't allow me to beat the crap out of you in my playroom." He's tone is commanding, drawing me in, forcing me take notice so I listen carefully.

"Understand Anastasia that punishing women was a way for me to deal with the crack whore's failure to protect me. That anger and pain needed an outlet and it was a means to an end. But as I grew to love you - something I never believed was possible for me," a wry twist appears on his full mouth, "and I started to see that you loved me. I began to hope that maybe, I was worth loving. Your love eclipsed the anger and the pain and for the first time I felt myself letting the past go." I can see his Adam's apple move up and down as he swallows, marshalling his thoughts. The atmosphere is strained but I'm hanging on his every word.

"I had to tie women up if I wanted to be near them, I couldn't bear it if they touched me but your touch was different, you made me want it – crave it. You made me desire the feel of your hands moving across my skin thereby healing another issue that I thought I'd have to live with for the rest of my life. You made my broken body whole." His gaze is measured and steady, watching me watching him. I long to comfort him, to lose myself in him but I don't want to interrupt.

He's going to go through each point, like he used to when we were first discussing his bizarre contract. "When you shared my bed I didn't have any nightmares, my sleep undisturbed by horrific memories." It's his turn to drop his gaze and for a beat he turns thoughtful.

"That, my dear Anastasia, is what you did for me. So, I don't know if that fits your parameters of "doing something to earn my love" but as far as I was concerned it was much more than I ever dared to hope for." He's utterly sincerity has a disarming effect on me, stealing away my barriers of defence. "Things that thousands of dollars of therapy," he waves his hand dismissively, "and a carefully planned BDSM lifestyle could never do."

"Oh Christian", I groan as fresh tears burn behind my eyes. Hearing him say these things out loud, it all makes perfect sense. On the one hand it makes me feel fantastic, knowing that I could bring him such hope and peace but, on the other, I want to kick myself for not seeing it sooner. I was so caught up in my own insecurity missed it all.

He correctly identifies the understanding dawning in my eyes "So now you see, I never gave anything up for you Anastasia. We grew, as a couple; we both compromised along the way and found a new course. Our own course. I don't think that my possessive, jealous and controlling nature will ever change and I still want to see the people that I love safe and eating properly," a sardonic smile plays at his lips, "but all-in-all I was much better off with you." His chin points in my direction as he searches my face, his hand slowly snaking back to mine. This time I gladly comply and ever so gently he skates his thumb over my knuckles.

With this fresh perspective and new insight I pick out the moments where I missed the mark, my insecurities overriding information that should've been obvious. I still don't agree that any of this is his fault and it's clearer than ever before that I belong with him, to him. That I deserve him. Maybe I needed to go through this baptism of fire, the anguish of heart break, in order to understand what it feels like for someone else to make you whole again.

I take a deep, fortifying breath, steeling myself for what I want to say as I absentmindedly reciprocate his caress, "I want you back."


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

I hear his sharp intake of breath, the thunder clouds rolling into his eyes.

"Anastasia, I don't want to play games and I don't want to lead you on. I don't know if we can ever trust each other again." His words are concise and certain while his gaze is urging with me to understand. A frown folds between his brows as his features distort with weight of his words.

Blood and breath leave my body at the same time, simply evaporating. As a coping mechanism designed for unbearable heartbreak my psyche takes over and distances us, mercifully making me a detached observer to this unfolding tragedy.

_But he said that he was broken too! _

I guess the shock and pain is clear on my sheet-white face as he tries to explain: "it hurt so much Anastasia, if my heart was dark before..." He trails off, all trace of playful Fifty vanishes like a magician's trick, eyes cast with a fearful glint. He's grip on my hands are forceful.

"I don't think I can..." he continues, "if I let you in... how could it ever work?" He looks utterly dejected, eyes burning as the question rips the gaping hole deeper into my consciousness.

"Besides," he draws a steadying breath and I watch him find his centre again, his look focussed once more as he sheaths his vulnerability, "it's not just us anymore."

_How does he do that, find his equilibrium in spite of his emotional turmoil? _It's plain as day that he wants to be with me but his immense self-control and halting terror is forcibly restraining him. That's one very high wall for me to breach.

"No," I stammer, "yes…, of course, you're right." I whisper shamefaced, swallowing hard against the dry lump expanding in my throat. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stem the lurking tears. I can't look at him and I can't take my hands out of his grasp. _What the hell was I thinking, what on earth did I expect?_

"I don't want to hurt you," he acknowledges my anguish, his eyes pained and trained intently on me, "if I invest in this, in you and a child and you run… Ana…." His voice is soft and strained and I pick-up on the sorrow behind his reasoning. "It will kill me."

He reaches for my mouth and frees my lip from my teeth's assault. My waning control collapse under his endearing concern and I know I must leave this instant if I want to avoid having a full breakdown in front of him. I dash the back of my hands over my leaking eyes and force my unsteady legs to push the chair back and take my weight. "I have to go," I can't bear to look at him; my voice is a hoarse murmur and the world a watery, unsteady blur.

"Anastasia, you can't leave like this!" He stands and makes a grab for my arm but I'm already out of his reach.

My fight or flight response is spiking adrenaline, forcing me into action when I realise that I'm not going to make it outside if I don't hustle. I'm aware that he's following me so I stretch my strides, hurrying through the lobby and in a moment of inspiration, dash into the ladies. A brief moment of relief washes over me when I find it empty.

It's small but plush with a cushy chaise lounge that I gratefully sink into as I let go. Huge sobs racking my body as I hold my hands over my face. It's clear to me now that even though we weren't together, there was always hope. Hope that perhaps one day we could be together. A secret, coveted and deeply buried fantasy that I've nursed for the past five years now crushed to dust by reality's blow.

Time and space becomes abstract. I'm so deeply retracted into my thoughts, nursing my ache that I feel like the world has stopped around me. It's just me and this unrelenting battering of my heart. It brings with it a deep weariness, my will bruised and broken. When awareness slowly sinks back into my mind, it's just enough for years of ingrained behaviour to take over. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I wonder why Christian didn't follow me inside; it's no small mercy that no one intruded on my misery.

I move the short distance to the marble basin. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror I can see the weight of the pain I bare. My vacant eyes are rimmed with red and smudged with clumps of mascara. Ugly blotches are mottled over my cheeks where the tear tracks ran.

So much for looking my best I think ruefully. I splash my face with cold water and pat myself dry. What an epic error in my judgement. Again! I release a long juddering breath and comb the recesses of my mind for the courage to face the outside world.

At least there's tomorrow, I cling desperately to the promise of my meeting with Julie Logan – a small consolatory silver lining.

When I open the door I have to side-step a lone orange traffic cone standing in the short passageway that leads to the ladies room. _How strange_. I glace back, over my shoulder and I see a sign stuck to the door. It's a makeshift sign – plain white paper with black words typed across: "out of service." My every movement and thought comes to an abrupt halt, my skin prickles with comprehension. When I gasp my hand flies to my mouth, cutting it short: Christian!

How is it that even in the most screwed-up of situations he still manages to pull the rug from under me, making these wholly romantic gestures? In moments like these he's so in tune with what I need that I imagine our bodies must me metaphysically connected. It takes my breath away.

This simple thing, creating a private space for me to cry in is so deeply touching. So kind and caring, so typical of Christian, ordering my heart to swell with love for him. It's also in stark contrast with his refusal to try again and it brings home just how scared he is.

Our connection is still there, undeniable and as strong as ever as is his palpable feelings for me but he's retreated behind a wall, brandishing it like a shield against all invading emotions. An iron will reinforces it with his fear and it stands solid and adamant in the way of our collective happy ever afters.

He's never going to break it down and cave. If I want him back it's going to have to come from me. I'll have to chisel out every single brick to get to him. I know how much I'm to blame for the construct of this wall so it's only fitting that I should be the one to tear it down. The time for wallowing in self-pity is over; if I can't reach him I'll never be able to make up for what I did and it's vital that I do, for him, for Chris and for me.

Resolve like concrete hardens and focuses my mind and for the first time I'm able to put his needs above my own. In spite of the pain and the damage I will do everything in my power to make us a family again.

_Yes!_ My subconscious and inner goddess high-five's each other.

My stride is braced with a new purpose but it's quickly broken when I come face to face with an agitated Christian. He's been waiting for me, probably pacing the carpet into a trench. His sexy hair is a tangled mess; his grim face matches his worried eyes. At the sight of me he flashes relief while a hand pushes through his hair underlying his uncertainty. His fingers bracket my elbow while he steers me to a quiet corner.

"I'm sorry Anastasia," he's watching me carefully like I'm a skittish animal about to bolt. "Are you okay? Please, come up to my suite, just come and take a moment, I don't want you to go, not like this." His tone is insistent and pleading, eyes darting nervously for an indication of my next move.

I'm torn. I can absolutely not cry anymore but leaving now, I know that he'll just worry about me. I'm startled and pleased at how well I understand the way his mind works. My subconscious gives me two thumbs up – _yes, we know him well_. Here's my first chance to chip away at that wall.

I look up at him and through my lashes, giving him a shy smile, "okay," I submit.

For a moment he looks taken aback but recovers quickly and presses his hand into the small of my back to guide me to the elevators. I get the impression that he's nervous, that I might change my mind.

I take a steadying breath as we step into the elevator. Mmhhh, confined spaces with Fifty. Even with every effort I can't supress my body's slavish response, it's no use. Within seconds the sparks are inciting, kindling and my breath hitch, leaving me dizzy with want.

Thankfully Mr Beautiful is also affected. He's stance is casual but he's tapping his key card onto the hand rail that lines the sides of the elevator and staring straight ahead at the digital display above the door. I've never seen him fidget before; he's vibrating with an edgy energy. At least I'm not alone in my slow burn of desire.

Like a shot he's out the door the moment they part to reveal his floor. When he remembers himself he stops to give me time to catch up. I spot his Adams apple travel down as he swallows tautly. Boy, he really must be rattled if he's delving so deep to mine his seemingly endless supply of steely resolve. Mr Mega-control fraying at the edges does nothing to dampen the rise of my libido, quite the contrary.

He unlocks the door and moves aside for me to enter. As gracefully as I can manage I walk past him, head held high and turn to watch him while I wait for an invitation to sit.

His old-fashioned, chivalrous manners take over, "please," his elegant hand waves toward the over-stuffed couches but his movements seem a little off, forced. "Sit down Anastasia; may I get you something to drink?"

I mirror his formality, "thank you." Thankfully I stop before I add "kind sir." It would be silly to tease him right now, not to mention dangerous. "I would appreciate a glass of water." I take a seat on the edge of the couch and steal a second to study his poise while he fixes the drinks. I sigh in pleasure to myself, he really is spectacular.

He hands me a tumbler and takes a deep pull from his own drink before he sits down across from me. He stares into the amber for a beat, maybe for inspiration. "Ana, I meant what I said, I don't want to hurt you and even though I don't know Chris, I couldn't be part of something that damages a child."

Despite the fact that it shouldn't, it shocks me that he knows Chris's name. He must've done the research yesterday some time. Or got Welch to do it. My heart contracts painfully.

_No crying!_ My subconscious is wagging a warning finger at me.

My heart melts for toddler Christian as I always see him in my mind's eye, malnourished, dirty, unloved and unprotected, abused beyond endurance. No, he would never hurt a child but in my heart of hearts I know that Chris will be the key to bringing us back together. I Know I can't push too hard, letting people in have always been hard for him.

"I know you would never hurt him," I say softly, "or me," I reluctantly ad. I pitch it just right, the last bit meant to remind him of his feelings for me. "I would really like it if you would meet him. We can take it real slow, no big admissions or anything… you know… traumatic." I keep my tone even and my voice low as I peek up at him.

If my plan has any hope in succeeding then this is the most crucial part. I want him to want to meet Chris. It's not something I can force him into, it **must** come from him. I know that once he gets used to the idea of Chris and experiences the joy of parenting that his natural instinct would want to create a stable, family unit.

I'm gambling on the fact that he'll choose me to be the matriarch. I still have no idea if there are or were others that got "more" from him after I left so I'm bravely banking only on the emotion I've seen from him so far. It strikes me that now that he's turned me down, I'm more confident than ever before in his love for me. _How strange._

"Do you want to meet him?" Mindful I search his face; keen to pick up every micro emotion that flits by to get a handle on how to proceed. He's so schooled in keeping his emotions at bay making him very hard to read.

He shoots up from his chair and paces past me, both hands grabbing at his hair. _Oh crap!_ On his third passing he stops in front of me and his granite gaze bore into mine. "Oh fuck Ana! I don't know…. **do** I want to?" He looks bewildered but I also detect a fraction of hope.

_Yay!_

I reach up and cup the side of his face, his stubble grazing my hand as he leans into my caress. I keep my eyes trained on him: "I understand that you're anxious, I am too but you're his father." I place my other hand over his heart and keep my voice steady. "I'm sorry that I kept the two of you apart, father and son, you belong together." My hands drop away and onto my lap, my look follows suite. "More than you'll ever know."

_Keep it together!_ With all my being I will him to long for his son.

For a moment he seems indecisive, a saddening mix of uncertainty and reluctance marring his striking face. Again a hand travels through his hair when he takes a seat. I watch as hesitation gives way to resolution and his tension recedes like wave being drawn back into the ocean. "Okay." He nods his acquiescence and I let go of a breath I wasn't aware I was holding. "Yes, I'll do that. I'll spend some time with him."

I give him a cautious, encouraging smile, "thank you Christian, that means so much to me." For now I drop the subject and allow him a minute to acclimatise to his decision but I know him so well. Any moment the barrage of questions will begin and then, as if on cue I hear his intake of breath to start, "how do you want to do this? How will you introduce me?" His face is moulded with anxiety again as he contemplates the options.

I can't help but smile a secret smile. Even Christian seems to know that no matter how rich and successful you are, small children takes little notice of such things as their innocent minds cut through the superficial nonsense and look straight into your soul. Will Chris see a father there? Will Christian see a son? I'm willing to hedge all my bets that they will.

"Well, as he's already seen you at the zoo, I can easily introduce you as a friend and if it would suit you, I think meeting at a child friendly place would be ideal. Somewhere we could all do something together. Maybe a lak…."

His barking orders into the phone interrupts me, probably Taylor: "I need a child friendly place, something with some activities where we could go tomorrow." He quirks an eyebrow at me and I nod my confirmation, mouthing _afternoon_ in reply.

When he ends his call he's bristling with efficiency. Now that he's made up his mind he gets the ball rolling on his mental check list. I don't bat an eye when the first thing on his agenda is our safety and travel arrangements.

"Taylor will get back to me. What time shall I send the car? And just so you know," both hands fist into his sides, his demeanour brooking no argument, "this is not a request. Taylor can organise some extra security detail and I insist that you travel with me so I can keep you safe."

"That's fine," I'm eager to show off my new found cooperative attitude, "I should be done with my meeting just before lunch and It'll take me about half an hour to get back to our hotel."

Too late I realise that I've let the cat out of the bag. _Oh crap, double crap!_ I didn't want to say anything about the meeting. Mr Undue influence might make an unwelcome appearance and I don't want to owe him anything. It's important to me that I do this by myself, stand on my own merit. If I need the force of Grey Publishing behind me to succeed it's not worth doing.

"Taylor can take you to your meeting and bring you back." He dismisses my problem with a flick of his unperturbed wrist.

"Um, I… that won't be necessary; but thank you," I amend quickly. My thoughts scramble for a plausible explanation. _Oh boy!_ This would be so much easier if I could prepare for these conversations in advance. "A car has already been arranged." I improvise and feign interest in the carpet to hide the lie in my eyes. My nervous fingers worry the piping around the armrest of the couch.

I could never lie to him and now I've piqued his interest. _Why do things never go as planned when he's around?_ He directs his full attention to me. "With whom are you meeting Anastasia?" His expression is somewhere between annoyed and curious while his voice acquires that soft lilt that always marks his wrath. He's shifted, sitting on the very edge of his seat, watching.

Because I don't want him to know and I don't know how to skirt telling him I aim for non-committal even though I probably won't get away with it – it's worth a try. "Nothing serious, just some business." I shrug it off.

"What business Anastasia, you're a waitress and a part-time, small town librarian?" His irritation is obvious and his tone, icy and dismissive. He put his hands together, lacing his fingers and waits with barely restrained impatience.

My hackles rise, _Bastard!_ "What business is it of yours?" I spit back at him.

_Watch yourself…_ It's my subconscious reeling me back in.

My words hit their mark and he backs down. Straight away he rearranges his features, contrition written large. "I'm sorry." With his hand on his hip and the other dashing through his hair, the effort to reign in his temper is evident. I can't miss the fact that he also looks a little hurt.

Time lapse as we glare at each other trying once more to find our footing. We both let out a long breath and he sits back again, relaxing into the seat with a fresh, guarded look to remind me how emotionally skittish he can be.

_Phew!_ Crisis averted. I give my own ire a few more moments to melt away. _Wow, we sure know how to push each other's buttons!_

Mentally I review how the conversation has gone so far and, apart from the interrogation about the meeting, I think I've predicted and handled it well. I also think it's time to wrap things up, before I do something stupid. Anger, contrition and confined spaces with Fifty is bound to ignite into a passionate something-or-other and I don't want to lose the ground I gained today. I can't afford to lose my head like I did yesterday…..

My inner goddess vehemently disagrees. She sits up, bright eyed and ready for action but I ignore her.

I straighten and shift in my seat to provide him with a clue that I'm about to take my leave. There's one small lose end I still need to tie today. He needs to know that I see what he does for me. "Thank you for the suite upgrade and for the… um… the privacy… in the ladies room." I stumble over my words as the flush races across my face; I dip my eyes to hide my embarrassment. My fingers are knotted in my lap.

His answer throws me. "I've missed that delicious blush," he breathes and then, just like that, he switches back to reserved: "you're welcome Anastasia." Gaze clear and unruffled - in command again. Mr Mercurial at his best.

_Arg!_ He's so confusing. Now his eyes are smiling at me. He places both hands on his thighs as he rises, his easy grace always making his movements seem so fluid. He holds out a hand for me. After a slight pause I take it and he pulls me up. I'm mesmerised by him – trapped while reason and judgement float lazily away. _Perhaps a kiss? _My body beseeches as I drink him in. I can feel the heat of his body warming mine, his special brand of Christian smell sweeping my sanity away.

He reaches for my face and tucks a stray tendril behind my ear. His hand lingers in my hair and then he glides his index finger down my cheek and gently tugs my bottom lip free from my grazing teeth. He's watching me watching him and my whole being contracts with longing for him. He leans down and places the softest kiss on my hairline. His muscular chest expands as he inhales deeply, pressing my breasts into him. When I peek up his eyes are closed, his ecstasy naked and exposed. _Oh my!_

He places both hands on my shoulders and pushes away, the newly installed impassive look hides his vulnerability and breaks the spell - I feel cheated.

_Damn your control! _I yell at him in my head.

My sense of déjà vu is suddenly overwhelming, my memory playing a mini movie in my mind's eye: I'm in his arms on a curb in Portland, his hold around my waist is firm and every nerve in my body is willing him to be the first to kiss me deeply, properly. "Anastasia, I'm not the man for you. You should steer clear of me."

I'm as wounded now as I was then. He confided later that he wanted to kiss me but he felt he owed me a warning so he kept himself in check. This time too, it's achingly obvious what he wants to do, but he can't (or won't) move past the hurdle of his pain and fear.

My mood isn't helped by the fact that he, of course, is right. We aren't ready to go down that path right now but it does nothing to still my quivering thighs. Frustration is heavy in my groin; _I might have to invest in a toy if I'm to win this battle._

"I'll e-mail you once Taylor finds us a place, please let me know what time we can collect you at your hotel." His business-like efficiency brings me back to the present and I summon every ounce of inner strength to match his sudden brusqueness.

"Sure," see, I can also play unaffected. "We just need to be back at the hotel at five to collect our bags and head to the airport. Our flight leaves at eight."

"I see," he looks pensive for a moment, "I'm flying back to Seattle tomorrow, you're welcome to join me. I can have our flight plan altered to include a stop-over in Savannah. I can drop you off." He's uneasy about my response but his need for control overrides my possible reaction. His eyes are dark and probing, maybe even saying that any extra moment is something that he'll gladly take.

I'm just about to turn him down when my subconscious interjects, _just_ _think about it._ I close my mouth again and give the idea time to take root in my head. This could work in our favour, it's a very short flight but we will be with him. On the other hand I will lose the money that I paid for the commercial tickets in the first place and I'm not sure how this new travel arrangement will go down with my mom.

He grasps my indecision and zeros straight into the heart of the matter. "Taylor can deal with the airline on your behalf. He should, at the very least, be able to change your ticket details so that you can use them for another trip, that way you won't lose them altogether. I'll pay any fees necessary for the amendments." He shrugs his shoulders as he tries but fails to look unconcerned.

"Thank you Christian. That's very kind of you. I'm sure Chris will be thrilled." I smile a genuine smile and quash all thoughts of my mom; she said to do **everything** I can to fix things.

Relief mingled with a flash of triumph tells me that I made the right decision. He places his hand just above my behind and steers me to the door. I know the best thing I can do right now is to leave but my heart wants to stay, tugging at me in my chest. I can't even engage myself with an internal struggle about it because Christian is making the decision for me. I realize that he also bears the certainty that if I linger, we won't be able to keep a clear head.

"I'll walk you down," he opens the door and gestures gallantly for me to go first.

I beam up at him to give myself time to formulate a scheme to avoid another ride in the elevator with him. My jumbled, confused and dangerously surging hormones can only take so much.

I place my hand on his arm and aim for sincere and decisive, "you've done so much already, thank you. I'm fine, I'll see you tomorrow." I stretch onto my tippy toes and kiss him gently on the cheek.

He appears startled, like I've done something really strange. His eyes widen and he absentmindedly touches his fingertips to the spot I just kissed. He barely manages to nod his head, careful control slip only for a second to reveal grey turning molten.

I hug myself on the inside. _Ooh, good job!_ I turn and walk down the passageway but take a peek back over my shoulder. He is still standing in the doorway looking lost in thought. I wiggle my fingers over my back in a little wave and give him a full, megawatt smile.

I ride the elevator down all 36 floors of the Conrad Hilton and a bubble of hope fills my psyche. I'm feeling positive again. He'll come around. The passage of time will teach him to trust again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for following this story and all the encouraging reviews! Please, please keep them coming!**

Chapter 6

The elevator doors finally ping open on the ground floor after making a few stops along the way. I stride out but as I pass the reception desk I get intercepted by one of the Conrad's very efficient staff members. His liveried arm stopping my progress.

"Excuse me, Ms Steele, this way please." He's smiling broadly and makes his way from behind the desk showing me to the glass exit doors with a dramatic sweeping motion. He finishes off his little flourish with a slight bow of his head.

I stifle a giggle at his old fashioned gesture._ Wait a minute, how does he know my name?_

"Mr Grey has requested I organise you a taxi and see you safely out," he explains to my confused expression. He's looking pleased with himself for following his instructions so diligently.

I smile back benignly but groan on the inside. _Is there anything that Fifty won't meddle in?_

The uniformed young man holds the door open for me and then races past to open the waiting taxi's door as well. _Jeez, I can manage on my own; I'm not some helpless invalid._ It all makes me feel a twinge uncomfortable.

I slide into the back seat, "thank you," I can't help the sound of the somewhat irritable lilt but it doesn't seem to faze him at all as he gives me another flashing smile. I lean forward to give the cabbie my address but the young man beats me to it. He props his arm onto the open window, firing off instructions to the driver. He straightens and taps the roof twice and the cab pulls away, slipping into the light traffic.

I sit back and ponder Christian's overbearing megalomania. I suppose embracing it is really my only option. If things work out for us - like I'm hoping it would - I will have to live with it every day, and so would Chris.

The thought of Chris and Christian together makes me smile. Christian's temperament is going to need a lot of adjusting when it comes to parenting. Chris is so independent and wilful and even though protecting your child is surely every parent's first concern, you also need to let go and let them learn and explore. I wonder how Mr I-will-decide-what's-right-for-you is going to handle this particular challenge. Good thing that Chris isn't Christina! He might've been tempted to cocoon her in cottonwool and lock her up somewhere!

When I arrive at our hotel I head for our suite and find my darling boy and mom building a jigsaw puzzle on the low coffee table. As soon as he sees me his eyes light up, he scrambles to his feet and throws his arms around my legs. I love how my little boy is always so happy to see me! His unconditional and honest hug is balm for my jarred, ravaged nerves.

My mom's eyes are soft and shine with love as she watches us. "Back in on piece then?" Her affectionate glow reflects her relief that I'm not a crying, broken mess.

"Only just!" I grin so that she knows I'm only teasing.

I pick Chris up and walk back to where they have the puzzle laid out. He wiggles in my arms, ready to get back to his task. I join them on the floor and, as I'm the newcomer who obviously knows nothing about puzzles, I'm given the complete run down of his puzzle-building plan.

"Mommy, you first have to take the sides out," he point to the pile of puzzle edges, "see, those are the ones with the flat bits. Then you have to put all the colours together, like this," he picks up two pieces that are mostly green and ads it to the green pile.

"I see," I feign deep concentration and bite my lip to stifle my mirth. He's taking this very seriously. It's adorable and so reminiscent of another bossy control freak I know. Across the table I catch my mom's eye; she's also trying hard to supress her smile.

Once we have all our instructions and Chris is satisfied that we understand what's expected of us we start matting the pieces together. He keeps a close watch and quickly corrects us if we dare to do something outside the plan in his little boy brain.

It's fun and relaxing and takes my mind off the day's events. "Guess what buddy?" I cram my voice full of excitement and I ruffle his hair. My heart constricts at the significance of what tomorrow might bring. _Nothing short of life changing._

His little copper head whips around to face me, eyes large and expectant and trusting. "Tomorrow is going to be a big day for us." I pause to build his anticipation, still smiling brightly.

"Mommy has to do a bit of boring work tomorrow morning but after that we'll be meeting a very special friend of mine, he's going to take us somewhere, it's a surprise!"

He claps his hands together and jumps up and down, "oohh, a surprise!" He's beaming from ear to ear. "Where are we going mommy? Is your friend nice? Can we go now?" I've certainly managed to excite him, his questions bubbling over.

"It's a surprise buddy!" I feign annoyance, teasing him. "If I tell you then it won't be a surprise anymore! And yes, he is very nice; you'll like him a lot! Like a whole, lot!" I explain, nerves and hope strumming through my mind.

I decide to share our new travel arrangements with my mom while Chris is here with us. I'm betting he'll be so excited about going on a private plane that my mom won't have the heart to tell me to change my mind. "And then…. he will take us home in his very own plane!" I quickly scan my mom's expression, assessing but she seems fine, a little taken aback but fortunately not angry.

His eyes grow wide in wonder, "wow mommy, will the plane land in our street? Then we can call Joshua, can he come in the plane too?" He's referring to our neighbour's son and his best friend, the thought of showing off a real live plane has him vibrating with enthusiasm.

My mom and I share a hearty laugh. "No honey, it will still land at the airport and then we will drive from there. Joshua won't be able to come on the plane this time but we can take some pictures and you can show him when you see him again."

He's clearly delighted and he runs around the lounge arms outstretched from his sides as he mimics a plane. "Yooo-hoo!"

We spend the rest of the afternoon finishing the puzzle and eating junk food, it's our holiday after all.

"Do you need to prepare anything for your meeting tomorrow?" My mom asks as we start breaking up the beautiful sailboat puzzle. She knows how important tomorrow's appointment is for me.

"No, but I do need to check my e-mail, Christian said that he'd mail me the details of our plans for tomorrow." I'm quite curious to see what he's managed to conjure up; no doubt it will be slightly over the top and very special.

"Do you think it's a good idea to spend so much time with him tomorrow, the outing and then the plane trip?" She's toying with a puzzle piece, almost manically as she unconsciously works off a little nervous energy. Her look is apprehensive.

"Oh mom, who knows?" I sigh, I keep my gaze averted, I'm not sure what she'll read in their depths and I don't want her to know how much I'm banking on tomorrow's success. "I'm just trying to follow your advice, do what I need to do to fix things. I know that he would've been upset if I turned him down." I shrug, my mouth turned down. I wish I knew what to do.

She holds up both her hands and shakes her head, "Okay darling, whatever. I just don't want anybody to get hurt you know?" She pins me with a pointed look and I feel the heat rise to my face.

"I know mom," I give her hand a reassuring pat and try to project some confidence. It's time I take my leave; I don't have the energy for another heart-to-heart. I get up, off the floor and head to my room. Time to face my e-mail.

As I start-up my laptop I feel the familiar flutter of little wings in my stomach. I can't believe how excited I am to hear from him.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: outing tomorrow_

_Date: 16 October 2016 16:57_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia,_

_I am pleased with the progress we made today and with my decision to meet my son. I have managed to find a venue that I feel confident will be suitable. We will be visiting the Barnacle Historic State park. It's situated on the shore of the Biscayne Bay and has picnic facilities as well as a stunning historic homestead built by an influential pioneer and renowned yacht designer._

_Please remember to send me a suitable time to collect you._

_In the light of this new turn of events in our lives you are going to have to accommodate some changes. You know how I operate and I will appreciate your cooperation in these matters. Please trust me when I tell you that this is a heavily edited list of things that I will be expecting from you, I remember only too well how you feel about these things._

_If things go well tomorrow I would like your assurance that I will have unhindered access to Chris._

_I want to be involved in all parenting related matters and decisions._

_I have ordered a personal credit card for you that you will use in all expenses necessary to ensure Chris' best care._

_You will have a security detail; this will include someone to accompany Chris to school._

_We will need to discuss schooling; I don't feel that the institution that you have him enrolled in now is adequate._

_I have set up private health care for yourself and Chris._

_I have made a lump sum deposit into your bank account. This is an estimated, retrospective calculation of the child care costs that you have incurred up until now. This is obviously because I did not have an opportunity to contribute as I was unaware of his existence._

_You will receive a monthly alimony payment from now on._

_I would like to reiterate that these terms are not negotiable. _

_I look forward to spending the day with you and Chris tomorrow._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_Holy moly, h_e's _been busy!_ I put my head in my hands and exhale sharply. Oh, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty. I was expecting some sort of interference from him but this! And his tone - it's like he's dealing with some business associate, one he doesn't particularly like.

Is there anything about us that he doesn't know? I'll need some time to process all of this; I'm not even sure how he sees this working in practice. We live so far apart; does he expect me to call him every time I make a decision? I snort. _Yeah, that's probably exactly what he's demanding_. And the school? Chris is only attending preschool! Are we already mapping out his future? This is too much!

A light bulb switches on in my head. He finally has an excuse to let his control freakery run wild! Chris has provided him with the perfect justification for his overbearing tendencies. What's more normal than a father wanting to protect his son? It's just, as always, he takes it five steps too far.

What can I say to him? I'm in no position to negotiate. I lied to him, ran way and kept him from his son. The burden of guilt is forcing me into a corner, coercing my compliancy. I'll just be non-committal for now and see if I can reason with him over time.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: outing tomorrow_

_Date: 16 October 2016 17:31_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Dear Christian_

_Thank you for your e-mail. The venue sounds ideal. What can we bring? You can collect us at 12:00pm. Chris is very excited about the plane trip._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_Anastasia Steele_

I hit send. There, that doesn't say much at all! I'm not agreeing or disagreeing. I'm quite proud that I kept my cool. My subconscious gives me a stern nod, _it's not like you had any other choice._

I hear the ping of another e-mail. I take a gulp of air and brace myself, my calm from a moment ago already wearing thin – Christian can be so unpredictable.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: outing tomorrow_

_Date: 16 October 2016 17:45_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia,_

_I know what you're doing. Avoiding a conversation does not make it go away. _

_I've made the necessary arrangements for our flight tomorrow. Taylor has managed to get a full refund for your commercial flight tickets. I have transferred the money directly into your account. I have scheduled a lay-over in Savannah because I want to see your apartment. We can drop your mother off and then take you and Chris home. _

_We will pick you up at 12:00pm sharp, you do not need to bring anything other than your personal items. _

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_What?_ He wants to see where we live. I'm one hundred percent positive that he knows where we stay so he must just want to physically see it for himself. A hot rush of annoyance flushes through me. _Crazy stalker_. Probably wants to swoop in and interfere in some wild way.

If he buys us another place to live I will lose it! I like our apartment, it's small and cosy, it's home. I'm certain that Mr Exacting will find it lacking in some way. Has he no regard for arrangements that I might have made? I bristle, feeling exasperated that he simply assumes.

_Not that you made any,_ my subconscious just had to ad her five cents worth.

What if I had organised someone to pick us up from the airport? What if I had plans… What if those plans included a someone and that someone was special….?

Mmhh, I muse, what **if** I had someone in my life? Christian used to think that half the world was in love with me. I scoff at the thought but I can't help wondering if he still thinks that. A small smile plays at my lips, tugging at the corners; I remember how it used to drive him nuts.

Kate used to try and make him jealous all the time; she thought he had commitment issues; maybe I can use that now. A brave idea begins to takes shape in my mind - another way to give him a little nudge in my direction.

My inner goddess is rubbing her hands together with glee, a mischievous grin on her face.

I minimise my e-mail program and hop onto Google. I search for a flower delivery service in my neighbourhood. Five minutes later I've ordered myself a bouquet of flowers to be delivered tomorrow, to my front door with a card that reads: "Welcome home from: you know who, xx". Thankfully I realise in time that it's best not to add a name, Christian will investigate the poor guy to death if he really existed.

I re-cap the plan in my head so far:

Romantic "date" tomorrow with Chris and Christian – with me being on my best behaviour.

Fly back home together, ensuring more quality time to bond.

Get flowers from an unnamed admirer - guaranteed to make Christian jealous.

Don't get angry and fight about anything no matter how stalkery and controlling he gets.

Make sure that Christian sees his future with us.

It's one thing to dream up this little scheme but what I really want, no need, is for it to work.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: outing tomorrow_

_Date: 16 October 2016 18:02_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Dear Christian_

_You will be most welcome in our humble home. Please thank Taylor for his efforts regarding our commercial flight tickets._

_Until tomorrow,_

_Anastasia Steele_

Even though his demanding, presumptions e-mail is maddening I find it really hard not to give in to some flirty e-mail banter, I am so tempted to sign off with "laters baby" but It's clear from his tone that formal is what he wants to do right now. I feel that I've no choice but to stick to my "serious, to-the-point-business" e-mail persona – for now. My inner goddess pulls a scowling face.

I close the laptop with a satisfied snap and go in search of Chris for bath time. After a drawn out bath we crawl into his bed together to read a story. This is one of my favourite times of the day. I love doing the voices in the books and watching his animated face, engrossed in the fictional events. I love that he loves books. I give him a long, good-night cuddle and kiss his sleepy face all over. _My_ _precious boy_. I'm conscious of my emotions still hovering just below the surface, ready to spill over at the slightest whiff of sentiment. _Boy, it's been a taxing few days._

As I leave his room I gently close the door and roll my neck to stretch my tense, bunching muscles. I could do with a long, hot bath and some distracting reading material - I don't want to think about my meeting tomorrow or our plans with Christian.

I find my mom curled up on the sofa watching an in-house movie. "I'm going to have a bath and an early night." I'm still weary from last night's intense talk and after a day like today I can't face another one, if I'm not around she won't have the opportunity to corner me into one.

I needn't have worried, she's so absorbed in the plot that she hardly notices, "Okay honey, enjoy," she mumbles distractedly, not taking her eyes off the screen and waves me away, lost to the film.

_Yay!_ No heavy mother-and-daughter chats. I make a dash for my bedroom before she has a change of heart.

After a long soak I slip between fresh, crisp sheets and revel in the simple pleasure for a moment. I don't have to wait long for my eyelids to fall, grateful to shut out the draining day and my hopeful dreams, eager to steal me away from my worries and guilt.

I wake seconds before my alarm goes off and quickly reach for my phone to stop the irritating beep from starting. _I hate that sound!_ I flop back onto the bed for a long stretch. I realise that I've had a great night, I feel rested, invigorated even. Must be the cunning plan I have in place to win my man back. I enjoy my smugness for a minute before my subconscious barks at me to _keep it real, don't count your chickens! _Her eyes narrow, shaking a cautionary finger at me.

Today is D-day. Julie Logan and the publishing company that she represents is the key to my new future. I picked this publishing company for some very specific reasons. Firstly, Christian doesn't own it in any way. Secondly, I really respect how they do business; they don't edit the hell out of their very select and quirky clients. And lastly, I love their book cover artwork, marketing and distribution strategies. They're innovative and unusual, an out the box kind of business. They just come across as a publishing company that prides themselves in working for the writers they represent.

When I left Christian I had to leave the publishing world behind as well. I took jobs that paid cash and didn't ask too many questions. I had no choice, I was in hiding and I was broke and pregnant and heart broken. I couldn't afford to see a shrink and I was avoiding my close friends and family so that they didn't get caught up in the crossfire.

I certainly couldn't confide in Jose, for my plan to work he had to believe that I was in love with him and not still pining after my ex-husband. I felt so alone and so very broken. The only thing I could do to keep my mind off the pain was to write about it. Every spare moment I had I poured my heartache into achingly sad, romantic novels.

So far I've completed five. I haven't been brave enough to send them out into the world until now. They've always felt so personal, like they're a part of me. But, things change and I think that they could become quite lucrative under the right guidance. I decided to set them free.

I posted the manuscripts to three of my well researched and short-listed publishing houses, just in case my first choice didn't pan out. I sent my written babies out to find their wings and held my breath. I was stunned when I received calls from all three, requesting meetings. To get any interest at all is amazing and I had the privilege of choice. I settled on the Buy The Book publishing company and today I'll be meeting with my possible editor, Julie Logan.

My stomach flips a worried and exited summersault. Just as I swing out of bed Chris comes bounding in, "we're flying today mommy!" his spirited squeal is followed by a jump onto the bed where he bounces around, landing on his behind and tangling with the sheets.

I laugh and catch him as he jumps off the bed and into my arms. I gasp and my heart skips a beat, children are so trusting. He just assumes that I'll be there to catch him. I wish we could hold on to that blind trust as adults I think ruefully.

After breakfast I carefully get ready. I'm going for sophisticated and confident. I do my hair up and keep my make-up neutral. My other good dress is in a classic 1950's style. It's black with a full skirt that ends right on my knee and tightly nipped in at the waist. Delicate spaghetti straps over the shoulders complete the very feminine look. I team it with stacked black pumps and cover the bodice with a red, short-sleeve fitted jacket, studded with tiny, incandescent glass beads. I'll swap the heels for flats and lose the jacket for our picnic with Christian.

I stand in front of the full length mirror and cast a critical eye over my outfit. Yup, I think this says exactly what I want it to. My inner goddess and subconscious are beaming their endorsement.

After getting a further stamp of approval from my mom and Chris plus lots of good luck hugs, I grab a cab to the headquarters of the publishing company. My research is done, I have a list of questions that I would like to work through and of course, I have a price in mind. My confidence is slightly bolstered by the experience I gained working in the publishing industry. It wasn't much but it's probably more than most people in my position have. Let's see if Julie Logan and I are on the same page. I roll my eyes at my unintended little pun.

I arrive five minutes early and the welcoming receptionist treats me like a friend. "It's good to meet you Ms Steele, Julie is expecting you." Her greeting instantly makes me feel at ease.

She shows me to a waiting area. "She will be with you shortly," she winks consolatory and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze when she passes me to go back to her station.

I smile my gratefulness and settle into a modern seat. The fluttering in my belly underlines my uneasiness and I take a deep, steadying breath. I exhale, imagining all the tension leaving my body along with the expelled air.

A tall, elegant African-American woman dressed in a dove grey, designer pants suit strides into the waiting area. She's all smiles and quiet authority. She looks like she knows exactly what she's doing and I'm impressed if not a little intimidated. Tall woman always do that to me.

Shortly before reaching me she extends an arm, "Ms Steele, good day to you. I'm Julie. Thank you so much for making the trip to come and see us, we're delighted to have an opportunity to pitch to you." Her rich, chocolate eyes meet mine with no hesitation and I immediately feel my tentativeness melt away.

I take her proffered hand and return her firm shake. I marshal my inner girls to help me look self-assured. "Hi Julie, I'm happy to be here and please, call me Ana."

We pause for a moment sizing each other up with big smiles pasted on our faces. It only takes a second but we're both aware of the all-important, first impression moment. I find that I like her already; I just hope that the feeling is mutual.

She steers me to the sleek conference room, all the while chatting animatedly. Even though it's obvious that she's trying to make me feel at ease it doesn't feel forced and I let myself relax. Things are looking very good so far.

We take our seats and after she offers me a drink we get down to business. She gushes about the manuscript that I've sent her and a new hope unfurls in my heart, filling it with a joy that's been lacking for a while.

Imagine being a paid and published author! I listen and lap it up with relish. Most of what she tells me I already know from my research but I really wanted to see how they live their impressive mission statement. As she talks I begin to see how Julie is the embodiment of what appealed to me about this company. It's like hearing a choir sing in beautiful and perfect harmony.

She finishes her spiel and I launch into my questions. Her answers only inspire my confidence further and I think she can sense a deal because she breaks out the contract. It's a fat ream of paper, important looking and a meaningful symbol of freedom for me. _Crunch time._

She goes through some of the terms and I lose her a few times. I never sat in on the negotiations with prospective authors. I only ever read manuscripts and made recommendations about their work. I clearly have a bigger gap in my publishing knowledge that I thought but pride pushes me to plough on. I'm not ready to admit that I can't do this on my own, I'm sure my confidence will return.

"Ana, have you given any thought to what you would expect as an advance if you were to sign with us?"

Clever, I think. Always ask before you make an offer, that way she can be sure never to offer more than I might have been willing to take. I have given this a great deal of thought and I know that advances for first time writers, especially for fiction, are a whole lot less that what you would think.

I also have a negotiating trick up my sleeve, I'll ask for more than I am willing to take so that we have a decent point to negotiate from. "I was thinking in the region of $40 000.00." My flush instantly betrays my discomfort; that I'm way out of my depth.

_Oh, traitorous body!_ Part of me feels like I'm madly audacious to ask for money for something that I've written but the other half believes that I can tell the difference between a good and a great read. The million dollar question is whether I can make an accurate appraisal of my own work. My thoughts are volleying between yes and no, making the butterflies in my belly beat their wings aggressively. I tilt my head to the side and watch her carefully, will she give anything away?

She draws in some air, her eyes narrow as she purses her lips. Her eyes dart to the contract then back to me. "Wow Ana, that's a big number," her mouth settles into a regretful line. "I was going to offer you $20 000.00. You're a first time writer and I don't need to tell you the risk we're shouldering to put your work out there." The shrug of her shoulders makes it seem like it's the best she's willing to do.

She sounds so reasonable and I like her so much, I'm already unwilling to disappoint her. Suddenly I feel like a little girl, incompetent and rudderless. I long for Christian's decisive manner and incredible insight into all things business. How great would it be to have him here to help me negotiate this? The realization that I need him comes as a shock, a jolt that hits me like a bolt of lightning.

I've always know that I need him to make me whole, to fulfil my being, but I never knew that I needed him to be the big, strong, man-of-the-house to lean on. Someone I could look up to and get advice from, even learn from. I was so sure that I could do this on my own, no agent and definitely no Christian. _Wow, that's cut me down to size!_

Suddenly the contract with all its technical jargon and financial terms overwhelms me. My fighting spirit - left and nowhere to be found. All I want to do is run to him and beg for help. I scrape the vestiges of my flailing courage together, "Julie, I know we're in the middle of negotiations here and I'm very impressed with BTB so far," I meet her gaze and go with honest, pressing my lips into a thin line I press on, "I'm a little out of my depth here. Can I please take the contract and have a bit of time to think about it?"

Her mouth snaps shut and her face is splashed with her surprise but, to her credit she gathers her wits quickly, "Ana, you're doing great, we're negotiating remember?" Her tone is reassuring; she doesn't want to scare me off.

"Thank you and I know," I sigh, what can I say to make her understand? "It's just that there's someone else involved and I really need to square this with him first." My voice is a little breathless, anxious and I blink back a shallow tear. My explanation doesn't begin to convey what's going on in my head and it's pointless to try. I just need to go.

"I really am very interested, in fact, sold on your company….and you," I put my hand on her forearm to express my sincerity and find her eyes. _Please don't be disappointed in me, _I beg in my head.

She searches mine for further clues and then relents. "Okay Ana, no problem." She pushes her chair back and stands then hands me a copy of the contract. "If you want, we can set up a meeting with the both of you. Is that what it will take to make you feel more comfortable?" She's regained her equilibrium and now she's in full consolatory mode.

I get up and take it from her, "that would be great, thank you Julie and thank you for understanding." I try to send her a mental hug, I'm so grateful that she isn't pushing me right now. I hate being sold.

She walks me out and air kisses me goodbye on both sides of my face when we reach reception. "I'll be waiting for your call Ana; this is the right place for you and your work." She leaves me with that, turns on her heel and heads back to her office.

I step through the doors and hail another taxi, deeply embroiled in my latest revelation. _Who knew? I need Christian. _He'd be smirking his head off if he knew I felt this way. Isn't that a sign of maturity, learning that you don't know everything and there's no shame in asking for help?


	7. Chapter 7

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Chapter 7

I arrive at our hotel much earlier than expected due to my curtailed meeting. I duck out of the taxi and walk past the news stand on the bottom of the block where our hotel is situated. My eye casually scans the rows and rows of salacious reading material and newspapers when suddenly my eyes brake, spotting something that makes me look twice.

_Hey that's me!_

I'm stunned – oh no, my heart lurches and dives into a free fall. - And Christian, embracing, yesterday morning at the Conrad when I met him in the patio bar. I grab the Miami Herald newspaper with shaky hands and peer closely at the picture. The front page headline reads: "GREEN TYCOON REUNITES WITH EX WIFE".

_What the hell, I'm on the front page of a newspaper!_ _Don't they have anything important to write about, there are wars out there for crying out loud?!_

_Oh boy!_ Christian is going to be mad, but how did they get hold of the photo? I ask the question and get the answer at the same time: I glimpse a retreating back wearing a cheap suit in my mind's eye and Christian's epithet – "fucking paparazzi!" _The_ _bastard!_

My anger shoves me back in the moment and I fish out the change to pay for the paper. I mumble my thanks and immediately start reading the article whilst walking to the hotel. The scandalously fluffed article starts with Christian's history as a self-made man and goes on to detail our super short courtship and marriage followed by our sudden divorce. Then it says that we've been spotted together and in the process of reconciling, soon to be wed again. Twice I bump into other people on the sidewalk but I hardly notice, engrossed in the blatant fabrication.

_Where do they get this crap? _

As I ride the elevator up to our floor I ponder the implications of the article. I don't particularly care what the world out there thinks of us but Christian is a very private man and my first concern is for his family. It would have been ideal to keep things under wraps while we sorted ourselves out, finding the new direction of our relationship. Only then would we consider breaking the news to his parents about their grandson - and my stupidity.

All hope for that is lost now. I dread what the Grey's will make of this - and me.

My mom rushes to my side when she sees my face, "what's the matter darling?" her voice brimming with concern as the back of her hand strokes gently down the side of my cheek.

"Oh mom," I plonk my head onto her shoulder and wait for her embrace to soothe the shallow tears away. After a moment I push away and sigh deeply. I shove the paper into her hand and dump my sulky behind on the couch, my head resting in both hands – deflated.

She quickly skims the offending article and sits down on the arm rest next to me, gently rubbing my back. "Honey, this isn't so bad," she shrugs her shoulders, "annoying and untrue but so what?" She's all reasonable calmness.

"What do you mean not so bad?" My pitch is rising, incredulous and I sit up on my seat, rigid with annoyance. "Can you imagine what Christian's folks will think when they see this? All without the benefit of some hint of what's coming, and then learn that they have a secret grandson?" I glare at her willing her to make light of this.

"Oh," her face falls, "I see what you mean." Her eyes drop to the floor as her mind wrestles with the possible consequences on my behalf.

I fall back against the seat again, aware that she gets the full and ugly picture now.

_Shit!_

As we sit in our contemplative silence Chris bursts into the room. "Mommy do you have a book now? Where is it, can I see it?" his excitement is rippling off him in happy waves.

"Hi little man." I kiss him on his forehead and give him a hug. "No buddy, not yet but you'll be the first to see it, Okay?" I force a bright smile to hide the havoc in my mind. Fortunately he's still too small to pick up on my distress.

"When is your special friend coming? When can we go on the plane?" He's freed himself from my embrace and bounces on the open seat beside me.

"Soon angel boy," I look at my watch, "his name is Christian and I want you to be extra special nice to him - okay?" I give him my best stern-mommy look.

He narrows his eyes at me while he considers my request; I guess he's thinking about the fun things planned and what would happen if he doesn't agree. "Okay mommy," he grins and runs off to his room.

I was so excited about our "date" today with Christian but now….I don't know if I want to spend the day with a brooding and irritated Fifty.

"So how did it go?" My mom's gentle tone drags me back to her and I groan inwardly. I've temporarily forgotten about my truncated meeting.

I lean my head to the side, my lips are pressed into a pensive line. "Hmm, I think it went well but I got overwhelmed by the technicalities of the contract so I asked her if I could sleep on it. I might get some legal advice. Maybe I should get an agent." I was going to ask for Christian's help but after this piece in the paper he might not be in such a helpful mood.

"That's good honey, there's no rush. As long as you like the company, waiting another couple of days to sign won't matter in the big scheme of things." The motherly, positive spin she puts on everything is endearing but it does little to cheer me.

Before we can discuss it any further I hear the bleep of an incoming text from my mobile. I reluctantly leave the cushy hug of the sofa and rake through my bag to find my phone.

***Anastasia, I trust your meeting went well. I will come up to your door to collect you. See you shortly. Christian***

I suppose we should get ready and have a quick snack. Then I'll finish the last of the packing and throw together a small bag for the picnic today. I used to be able to travel light but once you have kids, you need everything and the kitchen sink when you venture out. I must remember to put in something warm to wear as well as sunscreen and hats. It wouldn't do pissing Christian off by being careless – safety first!

The text I send him doesn't reflect my sudden weary reluctance:

***Hi Christian, we'll be ready, thank you.***

At precisely 12:00pm I hear his firm knock on the door, my belly and heart share a nervous, little flutter. _Show time!_

My inner goddess is in a sexy black corset hoping to entice the man we love and my subconscious is scowling in disapproval.

"Come on guys," I call over my shoulder as I make my way to the door. Chris joins me in a flash – bubbling with energy but my mom hangs back in the lounge, giving us some space.

When I open the door I have a distinct urge to fan my face as my heart rate quickens. _Wow!_ How can one man be this hot? The instant our eyes meet I feel my nipples harden and my thighs squeeze together as they do an involuntary Kegel clench. A fast blush and hitched breathing compounding my desire and annoyingly putting it on display.

_Damn body_, I scold myself.

He's wearing baggy, combat-style khaki shorts that stop just above his knees and a made-to-fade, dark blue polo shirt, untucked. He has the collar slightly turned up and his hair is in its usual messy state. One elbow is above his head resting against the door frame and his slate eyes reveal their expanded pupils as he takes me in. His carnal gaze lazes a moment too long on my breasts and then languidly sweeps down before sinuously sliding up again.

It's taken all of about three seconds and the zing is there, sparking, fizzing, jolting - binding me to him and him to me – his own desire unconcealed.

I clear my throat, "Hi," I squeak unnaturally, "Christian, this is Chris." I shove Chris unceremoniously towards Christian by his shoulders in the most un-maternal manner, like he's my armour. Too late I realize that I should've invited him in first but my concentration is on vacation in my nether regions.

Christian's crooked smirk tells me that he knows exactly what he's doing to me. He breaks our eye contact and his expression changes, heat replaced with kind warmth as he drops to his haunches so that he can meet Chris on his level.

His grace makes the motion seem effortless. All of Christian's intensity is focussed on Chris and for a beat; I worry that it will frighten him. Chris raises his arm and they shake hands, eyes drawn to each other in wonder. Strangely, I can sense their connection developing.

"Hi there champ, I'm Christian." His veneration tempered by a sincere smile.

"Hi," Chris' voice is shy but he holds Christians gaze and he cocks his head to one side, unconsciously copying a typical Christian mannerism. "You look like me." His little hand reaches out to pat Christian's copper hair.

Christian and I both gasp, my hand flies to my heart and he glances up to catch my eye. His eyes solemn and deeply affected, mine is spilling with tears that are already halfway down my cheeks. It's a powerful, poignant moment and again I feel the sting of my shame.

My little man is oblivious and breaks the spell, "where's your plane?" His hands are clasped together in front of him and he's swinging his shoulders from side to side, still coy but unable to supress his eager curiosity.

"Do you want to see it?" Christian is grinning now, excited about sharing his toy with another boy.

Chris' eyes grow large and he bobs his head up and down, signalling a very definitive yes.

Christian laughs, "Okay, I'll show you my plane but first we have to go and race our sail boats in the bay. Would you like that?"

This seals the deal for my son and he runs around whooping with elation. Christian is his new best friend. I release a small sigh from a nervously held breath - _that went way better than I expected._

My manners finally stammer into action and I invite him in. We walk side by side through to my mom waiting in the lounge. The offending newspaper is lying on the dining room table and as he spots it, he stops then reaches for my hand to pull me back. When I turn I blanch seeing him reading it. _Stupid, stupid!_ I should've chucked it, maybe he didn't know.

_Too late now_ - my subconscious spews her unhelpful words at me.

"Fucking press," he spits at the paper in anger. His face softens when he turns to face me, "Anastasia, I'm sorry about this. I've half a mind to sue them for this crap!"

I look around for Chris to see if he's heard the swearing and clear my throat, "uhm, language please," I whisper and smile to let him know that I'm not cross.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry," he squirms and his expression bears a shadow of bewilderment.

"You know kids," still smiling, I shrug and lightly touch his arm to reassure him.

I don't want to miss my opportunity to apologize for the likely outcomes of the article, so I guide us back to the unpleasant topic. "About the article," I can't look at him and another blush pinches colour to my cheeks. I wave my hand half-heartedly to the newspaper. "I'm sorry; I didn't want your folks to find out like this. I can't believe that my thoughtlessness is going to hurt so many people." When I feel the unwelcome surge of tears well up I start to chew my lip to distract myself. _Don't cry, don't cry!_

Christian's watch is troubled when I finally manage to swallow my tears and peek up at him; he's shaking his head, perplexed. "Anastasia, I already spoke to my parents. I would have preferred to do it face to face but this," his jaw tenses as he searches for a word, "- situation forced my hand."

He reaches for my chin and with his thumb and forefinger gently pinches my bottom lip away from my teeth. He tilts my head up to search my face while his fingers hold my chin to keep me in place. "I've already told them everything and I think they understand. They weren't surprised when you left; I guess everything happened too fast for them too." His mouth forms a rueful line but his gaze darkens dramatically.

_Fuck, his parents already know!_ I cringe.

He quickly sheds his melancholy and his hand drops away from me, "anyway, I'm just grateful for the time difference, at least I saw it before they did and I could warn them. I have my lawyers on it now; they better squash it before other papers pick it up."

"Shall we get this show on the road?" He claps his hands together; rubbing them vigorously to elicit some excitement from me, all traces of his agitation swept away in a fresh tide of enthusiasm.

Mr Mercurial at his best I marvel. I never thought I would be grateful for his sudden mood shifts but now I can only see the benefits. He doesn't dwell on many things; he usually just gets over it, staying in the moment. _Very useful indeed_.

My mom joins us with Chris on her hip. "Christian, I owe you an apology, if I knew what my imprudent daughter was up to I would have mailed her behind straight back to you." She throws me a dirty look and then smiles up at Christian. "It's good to see you."

He leans forward and pecks her on her check, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Hello Carla, thank you. I think we've both been a bit foolish." He gives her a wry smile and winks, gallantly helping to shoulder my blame.

I watch my mother melt and simper like a teenage girl with her idol crush. I roll my eyes heavenward – _get a life mom!_ And why can't I get a wink like that?

I gather our things for the luggage trolley and sling the day bag over my shoulder to help myself recover from my irrational jealous pique. _Honestly!_

Chris wriggles out of my mom's arms and makes a mad dash for the trolley to take a ride, "let's go!" He squeals in delight.

We all follow in his wake and I wonder if Christian is going to make him get off because it might not be safe. But he just grins indulgently and tells him to hold on tight as he pushes him out through the door.

_Oh my_. If it was me he's probably roll me in cotton wool and tie me to it – just for good measure. I wonder if it's because Chris is a boy.

After Christian and I steal some surreptitious glances at each other on the elevator ride down, we head to the waiting, customised Audi Q7. It's another beast of a car but it's not his usual black. This one is silver and looks brand spanking new. Hmm, Mr Control is getting adventurous in his old age – a smile kisses my lips at the thought.

Taylor jumps out and gives us all a professional nod. He takes care of the bags as Christian opens the rear door for us. He's wearing an answering smirk, eyes light with mischief, "something amusing you Anastasia?"

Chris scrambles past me and into the car as I turn to look at Christian. "I like the colour, it's very **wild** for the owner of a fleet of black cars," I enunciate "wild" slowly, letting my tongue linger on my top teeth for a second too long to I tease him and flutter my lashes provocatively.

He inclines his head to the side and regards me with a smug look and I can instantly tell that whatever he's so smug about is going to put my little dig to shame.

"Thank you Anastasia, I think so," he keeps me hanging for a moment before he continues; I just got it this morning. I'm sure you remember that I like to keep my precious cargo safe and black isn't suitable for that particular and delicate job."

_Hhmm, precious cargo?_ Chris or me or both of us I wonder hopefully. Suddenly realization hits me like a wrecking ball. He's bought this car especially for today.

_Holy freaking cow!_ My jaw drops and his face is a picture as he revels in my stunned expression – I've obviously given him the exact reaction he was hoping for.

I blush beet red. "Urg!" I huff and shake my head in disgust. I duck into the car to hide only to be confronted by the next over-the-top extravagance. Chris is strapped into a booster seat that looks like something from the NASA engineers. Taylor must've clipped him in – I'm sure it must come with an instruction video, never mind the obligatory booklet.

Christian slides into the front seat with his usual grace and catches my eye in the rear view mirror, still looking awfully pleased with himself. "Like I said Anastasia, precious cargo." I get my own wink from him leaving me confused and not a little bit hot.

My heart flutters, why is he flirting with me? Maybe it won't be so hard to bring him around.

We head east for the short drive to the Barnacle Park. "Have you had something to eat?" Christian directs his question to me, the spark of disapproval in his eyes waiting to ignite.

I groan inwardly. _Oh yes, the eating. How could I forget?_ "We had a light lunch just before you came." I'm so grateful that I had the foresight to feed us.

Fifty is pleased and he nods his approval then shifts in his seat so that he's angled towards Chris in the back seat. They chat animatedly about school and sports. I listen absentmindedly, happy to lose myself in the breathtaking sea view as we drive along the coast.

At the park Taylor lets us out and then disappears. When Christian pays our entrance fees the teenage girl at the counter practically hyperventilates when she gets and eye-full of Mr Gorgeous. He renders her a stuttering, nervous mess and I sympathise with her, I so know what that feels like.

Yes, it's all coming back to me. His life is a blur of compliant woman ogling him. I remember how jealous and insecure it used to make me feel. I always questioned why he wanted me and not any number of the willing females he left in his wake. Do I feel that now? I find that I don't and again I find it surprising - especially in the light of his reticence – I'm confident in his love for me. I feel certain that he cares for me; It's liberating to feel secure for a change.

Chris has hauled my mom into the park, well ahead of us. "Care to share your happy thoughts?" Christian's question drags me out of my reverie, responding to what I'm sure must be a goofy smile. His grey eyes are trained on mine; seeking to see secrets they hold.

I keep my smile to myself; I'm not quite ready to share that specific piece of information yet. "Just happy to be here." I say with a soft and casual tone. When I glimpse him through my fluttering lashes I graze my lip and watch the puzzled crease form on his brow.

His eyes widen and hear his forced inhalation, grey turns to slate as he assesses me and what I'm trying to do – I could never hide anything from him. Then, just like that, he shuts it down - he grabs my hand and pulls me through the entrance gates; "come!" he commands, back in full control.

We catch up with my mom and Chris and find an idyllic, shady spot next to the bay. It's so beautiful. The trees are lush and green and the grass is thick and spongy to step on. Christian lays out a picnic blanket and from the picnic basket, produces two toy replicas of his sail boat, the Grace.

The one has a red spinnaker and the other is blue. He waves Chris over and shows him the boats. I think my little boy might expire with excitement and they race to the water's edge. I watch Christian sink onto the grass next to Chris, he takes long, calm moments to show him to all the little details and features, it's clear that he's relaxed and most importantly, patient.

_Wow._

I wonder when he had time to arrange that, I seriously doubt that he just happened to have them on hand. It's very touching - the lengths he would go to, to ensure a special day with my son. _Our son,_ I correct myself - a wistful shadow creeping into my mind.

I push off my shoes and make myself comfortable on the blanket, wriggling into the spongy, grassy mattress. My mom joins me and we watch them together in a contemplative silence. My heart swells with love for them both; my mom senses my imminent breakdown and intuitively hugs me around the shoulders. I have no defence against the emotions overcoming me and there's no need for words. The picture of them, two peas in a pod, says it all. The shadow becomes regret, twisting and twining painfully through my soul.

Christian let's Chris win both races, his unflappability and playfulness with Chris is so beautiful. _He's never that patient with me!_ Of course he'll be a good father, there's very little he isn't great at. I still don't believe that he would've taken to fatherhood straight away but I know now, with the clear vision of hindsight that he would have come around to the idea eventually.

_But he's lost four years thanks to you._ The unwelcome words from my harpy subconscious rings in my ears but I don't need her to remind me, the guilt is a slow red-hot burn, always searing, ever present. _How can I ever make it up to him?_

I sit up to watch as they amble back to us, animated. Christian is holding Chris' hand and their heads are turned towards one another, Chris looking up to Christian in reverence and wonder. The sun is behind the pair, outlining them with a golden glow - they're poster boys for the cherished bond between a father and a son. A snapshot of a special shared moment, captured forever in my mind's eye.

Closer to us Chris breaks free of Christian's clasp and dives into me, almost knocking me back down. "Mommy, I won, I won!" He's excitement makes us giggle and we oohh, and aahh appropriately. I have a feeling that we will be hearing this story many times more as they day wears on, Chris delighting in the pride of his victory.

Christian reaches for the basket and produces what looks like the makings of a magnificent, late lunch. The rustling of wrappers and opening tubs grab Chris' attention and he eyes everything hungrily. I hide my smile, pleased that he eats almost anything. Idly I ponder Christian handling a fussy eater, especially a child that you naturally worry about. I haven't forgotten how he responds to people forgetting to eat, the harsh stipulations of his sub contract regarding food flashing in my memory._ Yes, _I think,_ good thing he eats well!_

We share a delicious lunch and listen contentedly as Chris recites all the nautical terms he's just learned from Christian and again recounts his savoured, sailing victory. He really has taken to Christian and I catch Christian watching him - the love clear as day, adoration written large. He's glowing with paternal affection.

_Oh wow!_

After lunch my mom takes Chris for a walk around the park grounds to explore leaving Christian alone with me. He's lying on his back, strong torso propped up on his elbows beside me. He's kicked off his shoes and he looks relaxed.

"You've done a great job with him Anastasia." The deferential note strums at the strings of my heart. "You never fail to amaze me."

Heat rushes to my face at the unexpected compliment, how can he still be so kind? "Thank you," I breathe, "he's a good boy." I'd like to be gracious but I sound choked-up instead.

A silence brews around us, neither one sure where we stand. We gaze at the beautiful view, the sun's rays bouncing off the water, a shimmer of gold flashes as the breeze move the little, choppy waves.

Christian is the one daring enough to break into our distant thoughts. "How was your meeting?" His voice is quiet, measured and I get the impression that he's taking care to hide his curiosity but none the less eager to know.

I hesitate but only for a moment, I'm ready to spill my news but unsure how to tell him. Should I go for broke and tell the whole truth or should I phrase it so that he offers his help? "It went well, thank you."

When I don't immediately launch into an explanation he raises an irritated eyebrow, deftly sweeping the last of my hesitation away - he obviously wants to know. "I've written some things – novels." I clarify, my eyes cast down in uncertainty, still not used to the idea. Automatically my teeth gnaw my lip as anxiety trips in my belly.

When I'm brave enough to peek at him I find a carefully cultivated and unrevealing look in place. He's quiet, waiting almost patiently for me to continue. "I went to see a publishing house that is interested in publishing it." Now that the truth is out the shy blush follows, parading the sorry fact that I don't trust the value of my work.

He sits bolt upright, "you haven't signed anything yet, have you? Do you have an agent? Which house?" I shrink a little under the full force of his undivided attention; he's in full hotshot, CEO mode - interrogating, intimidating and just an inch away from aggressive.

"Uhm.., no…, I thought I would discuss it with you first." His tone has left me a stuttering, timid mess. My pulse is thumping unevenly.

He breathes out a sigh of relief and nods his head decisively, "you made the right decision." His clear eyes regard me with a shrewd slant, suddenly seeing me in a different light.

I let go of the tension drawing my shoulders up, that's good right?

"So?" He presses me for more information, I'm grateful that his voice has modulated with a softer timbre.

"No, I don't have an agent and the publishing company is called Buy the Book, I'm dealing with Julie Logan."

"Julie Logan? I know her, she'd be a good fit for you." he ponders for a moment, his brow knitting in thought. "Why didn't you come to me? You know that Grey Publishing will always look after you, if you like her," he shrugs his shoulders, "I'll hire her for you." He doesn't even realise that he's being overbearing; looking directly at me his question is an honest one.

_This is exactly why! How can he not know?_

I splutter, stumbling over my words in shock, "uhm, we weren't exactly on speaking terms and you know that I like to be…, independent." I am desperately trying to be tactful but the red bloom on my face gives me away.

His slate gaze turns dark, emotions warring on his lovely face as his mouth draws a rigid line. "Yes, I do remember, only too well." It's an accusation he's levelling at me with a look of distaste. Mercifully he drops it, relief rushing through me when he changes track, "what are you going to do?"

I'm stunned that he's asking and not telling me, processing this unexpected twist buys me a bit of time to think. I recall how his honesty always used to floor me and I decide to come clean. "I don't know, I thought that I had enough experience in the publishing industry to do this on my own but once we discussed the contract I got… overwhelmed." I look away into the distance, disgraced by my own incompetence. I pull my knees up, tucking my dress between my thighs as my fingers find and fiddle with a dry leaf.

He rocks toward me, lightly bumping his shoulder against mine in an effort to see my eyes and I reluctantly turn to face him. I have to swallow hard at the dryness in my throat and the show of his tender kindness. "It can be tricky, obviously the company want's you for as little as they can get away with and inevitably the writer feels a great deal of ownership for his work. It doesn't make for an easy negotiation." His lilt is gentle and reassuring, making my swallows even harder.

"The usual mistakes that authors make is to sign away their subsidiary rights or they joint-account their books. They also often don't understand that the advance is paid back to the publishing house through the royalties they earn." His watch is earnest but probing, I sense him trying to bore into my head.

When I don't respond he continues, uncannily diving straight to the heart of the matter, "don't be so hard on yourself Anastasia, getting someone interested in your work is the hardest part and you've managed to attract a decent company."

A kernel of pride blooms unexpectedly in my chest and I give him a coy smile, I can't help to boast a little, "three companies." I breathe.

He whistles through his teeth, "well then, there you go." He throws his hands in the air and shakes his head in disbelief; an admiring smile tugging at his mouth.

Bolder now I return his smile with a cheeky one of my own. "So, will you help me?" I flutter my lashes at him, giving him my best helpless female act.

He snorts before his face turns incredulous and finally victorious. "Are you asking me for help Anastasia?" I squirm at his sceptical and very unsubtle joy.

"Don't gloat Grey, it doesn't suit you." I try to sound affronted but my mouth joins his in a goofy grin - contradicting me entirely.

"Never thought I'd see the day." His still shaking his head, eyes alight with good humour. He's having way too much fun teasing me, milking it further by stroking his chin thoughtfully as if he's weighing his options.

My fierce blush comes in mortified waves as he continues to smirk at me, thoroughly pleased with himself and I get an irrepressible urge to wipe that mocking grin off his smug face. I pick up a nearby tea towel and swat it in his direction to flick his arm but he's lightning quick, catching it before he rolls over and pins me down beneath him, stretching both my arms above my head.

Our eyes lock and I feel my body mould to his. He dips his head and runs his nose along mine. So many memories of intimate moments between us flood my mind and I buck my pelvis against him, craving the release that I know only he can give. He lifts his head again and shakes his head in tender admonishment, amusement still lingering in his stormy gaze. He gathers his composure and rolls off me with that easy grace, releasing my hands at the same time.

We both lay breathless, staring at the sky with our hearts knocking wildly in our chests. My hormones are flushing through my veins bringing heat to my skin and an unwelcome ache in my belly.

_What an unfair reminder of our zinging connection! How is he able to walk away from what we both want so desperately? _


	8. Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

All I see is Christian's unruly mop as his head dips lower between my legs. His usual M.O. is to circle my clitoris with his slick, crackerjack tongue but tonight he's doing something different and – it's exquisite!

He presses his tongue flat against me as he laps at me with long strokes. He starts at the bottom and sweeps it upward in lazy, even lengths. Every time he comes up, I catch his eyes, blazing fire with pleasure and thick desire. _Fuck!_ As always the pressure is just right and as he stops and re-connects with me again - _there, yes! Right there!_ - I get a 1000 volt jolt, straight to my core.

I moan, almost scream as he flicks over my whole slit again. I so much want to grab his head and force his tongue to stay on me and stop this maddening teasing but both my wrists and ankles are tied to the bedposts. I buck my pelvis into his face but his leisurely pace doesn't change. The heel of his right hand is firmly pressed down onto my pubic bone creating a delicious pressure. His left thumb is rubbing slow circles on my inner thigh, my whole being willing him to move it up - just an inch - and slip it inside.

I glimpse his rippling shoulder muscles glistening with his perspiration in the dim light. He's so freaking hot. _Oh…! I'm so close._ He senses my quickening and two fingers glide roughly through my wetness and straight to my sweet spot, the other arm snakes up my body where he pinches my nipple and twists violently. I shudder and groan in ecstasy, thrashing my head about as I detonate my release.

_Holy fuck!_ My eyes fly open and I jerk up my torso, vaguely surprised that my restrains aren't holding me back, where is Christian? My body is covered in sweat and I'm breathing like I've run a marathon. I look around confused; I'm alone, in my bedroom, in my apartment. My body's still weak, jittery from my grinding orgasm, apparently induced by yesterday's events and my flaming hormones, finding an outlet, the only way it knows how – in a dream.

I flop back onto my bed, grab my pillow and drag it over my face. I force in a deep breath and let out a primal shriek whilst kicking my legs wildly, giving in to my child-like tantrum. The yell morphs into sobs and then hysterical giggles. What am I going to do? My way forward is completely blurred as a flash back of yesterday's events play through my rattled mind.

The picnic was amazing, Christian was so gentle with Chris, he is such a kind and natural father. We left the park quite late and Taylor drove us straight onto the tarmac of the Miami International airport to board the Grey Enterprises jet. By that time Chris was exhausted. Christian gave him a quick tour, revelling in his innocent, awed excitement; he even let him sit with the pilot for a bit.

By take-off his little eyelids were hanging heavy and low. Christian fussed over him, strapping him securely into the reclined seat and covering him with a soft blanket so that he could sleep. It tugged so hard at my heart that I had to look away at times, unable to watch how, after just one day, he was doting on his son. The melancholy bled like black ink into water.

After a quick, 40 minute flight, one of Christian's new men met us upon arrival in Savannah. Christian introduced him as Collins. He was a perfect Taylor clone, bristling with efficiency. I briefly brooded over what might have happened to Sawyer. I hoped that I wasn't the reason for his absence, that Christian didn't fire him for failing to stop my covert escape but I was grateful that he wasn't the one to collect us - if Taylor was mad at me, how mad would Sawyer be?

Christian carried a sleeping Chris from the plane straight into the booster seat of yet another waiting SUV. His sleepy eyes remained resolutely shut. That's what a day of fresh air and excitement will do for you when you're four. The thought had me smiling, warming my heart.

Collins drove to my mom's house without the aid of any directions from us and dropped her off. My subconscious took the opportunity to remind me that Christian was indeed the ultimate stalker and I shrugged, undaunted - it's not like I didn't know.

I gave mom a bear hug and I felt her warmth along with her well wishes for me in our embrace. She knew how edgy I felt about Christian visiting our home.

The next stop was mine and the churning in my belly told me exactly how anxious I really was. All too soon Collins parked in front of my building and carried our bags up to the fourth floor. Christian lifted our son from the car and held him close, Chris' head resting on his broad shoulder.

In an effort to dispel my angst I started jabbering as we walked. Even to my own ears I sounded overly chipper as I told him about Jo-Anne, the neighbour to the right of us. I mentioned that she had a son, the same age as Chris and how they were best friends – like only children can be. I stumbled through a list of all the good things I could tally about the building, that we've never had problems with crime and that it was well maintained - all the while feeling unreasonably defensive of the home I've made for us.

_What will Christian think? _The pressure was eating away at me.

At the front door I fumbled clumsily with the keys and wondered where the flowers I ordered were. I was expecting them to be waiting, ready to put me back on an even keel, restore the balance of power between us and maybe gain a clue to the depth of his reticence about our relationship. _Oh well, nothing I can do about that now._

Collins placed our bags in the hallway, nodded his goodbye and left to wait in the car. I quickly made my way to Chris' room with Christian tailing behind. I turned down his bed and closed the curtains. Christian laid him down, ever so gently. He just stirred and turned on his side, still far away in the land of nod. I pulled off his shoes and Christian asked if he could tuck him in and sit with him for a while.

"Sure," I said and smiled to hide another lump I had to swallow past. I scurried to the kitchen to do some deep breathing and find my collected self. I made a pot of tea and started on coffee for Christian when he joined me in the kitchen.

The atmosphere between us was awkward and my conversation stilted: "Uhm," I cleared my throat grappling for something to say. "Thank you for a lovely day and for dropping us back home." I had my back turned to him but I heard him pull out a chair, taking a seat at the cosy kitchen table.

"You're welcome Anastasia." His tone was soft, hesitant and I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

I joined him at the table and we nursed our drinks, staring at nothing, lost in a maze of jumbled, hesitant thoughts.

"What's wrong Anastasia?" His index finger slipped under my chin and he lifted my gaze to meet his.

I closed my eyes for a beat and basked in the small point of contact between us. I sighed, "I'm so confused Christian." I answered him honestly and shook my head, "I understand your reservations, why you turned me down," my look dipped down, studying my knotted fingers. "I know how much it hurt but why…" I faltered; too coy to say it out loud.

In that moment I seriously doubted my ability to read him, maybe I had misread the signs and he'd scoff at my presumption. I drew a bolstering breath, mustering all my courage as I squared my shoulders, "why are you so flirty with me?" I locked onto his eyes, pleading with him. "You're… leading me on, torturing me." I breathed, my face instantly blooming into a blush as I uttered the question that's been nipping at my mind.

"Anastasia," he began, running a hand through his silky hair and his grey look turned darker, "I can't hide my attraction to you any more than you can hide yours from me. What's the point?" He shrugged in resignation and continued: "we both know it's there, we feel it all the time." He was still watching me closely, looking to read the responding cues on my face.

_Ahh!_

"We torture each other," he leant back against the chair, gaze still intent, "it's always been like that with us." His mouth set in an uncompromising line.

I started to shake my head no, but he interjected: "you torture me by defying me and I torture your body." His head inclined to the side, the words tripped of his tongue in such a casual manner that he could have been talking about the weather.

"But.., but if that's how you feel, why can't we try?" the pleading desperation in my voice was very thinly veiled. I stopped my heart and breath while I waited for his reply.

He snorted, "I may not doubt your attraction to me Anastasia," his brow quirked and offered me a pointed stare, "but your long-term staying power – that's another story." His full mouth twisted into a wry smile and he broke the lock of our eyes, the pain too close to the surface for him while he shook his head, compounding his refusal even further.

It was like an icy wind that swept through my entire body, chilling as the blood drained from my veins. My heartbeat was suddenly sprinting; _was he saying that there was no hope for us, ever?_

A knock on the door made us both jump and his brows shot up in surprise. "I'm not expecting anyone," I quickly replied to the question his eyes held; my tone a little defensive and weary of the subtle anger I thought saw lurking there.

"Yohoo darling, are you decent? Yohoo?" The familiar throaty voice was echoing through my small apartment.

_Uh-oh!_ It's my other neighbour, Miss Dee, the one I neglected to mention because I wasn't sure how Christian would feel about us living next door to a six foot two transvestite. I pushed back my chair and made for the passage in an attempt to head her off but her long legs closed the distance way too quickly and she caught us in the kitchen.

"My daahling! You look fab, welcome back!" She air kissed me in her exaggerated manner and shoved a lovely bouquet of flowers into my hands. "These came for you daahling, thought I'd keep them safe for you." Her purple taloned hand batted playfully in my direction and she gave me a salacious wink teamed with a broad, super white smile.

_Ah, the flowers I ordered for myself._

"Dee!" I said, overly bright, "thank you! Look at you!" I gave her an appreciative once-over. She was wearing the skimpiest of purple lycra dresses and her blonde wig was a mass of curls. Her eye make-up matched the colour of her outfit exactly and the glitter platform shoes added at least another 10 inches to her already towering height.

She was a wonderful, warm person and I could truthfully say that I liked and trusted her. She worked as a computer geek in the day, which usually only started somewhere after 1pm. If you saw her then she could probably pass as a fairly regular guy, lounging about in sweats, her face displaying a roguish stubble but at night, she lived her true passion as she transformed herself into Miss Dee Licious for her evening show at some trendy drag club.

"Dee, this is my friend Christian." I didn't dare use her full stage name, I was hoping that he wouldn't notice that she really was a he but I thought it unlikely, Christian usually didn't miss much.

My subconscious was quick to point out her prominent Adam's apple, the ever-present five o' clock shadow and her masculine build, _no way was Christian going to think she's a girl_. She folded her arms across her chest and sneered nastily at me.

Miss Dee's long lashed, sparkly eyes turned to Christian and lit up with delight and curiosity. She cheekily wolf whistled straight at him, "what a delicious morsel Ana, where have you been hiding this fine, fine man?" She pointed an index finger at him, flicking it up and down in a zigzag motion as she devoured him with her eyes.

Christian stood and extended a hand to shake hers, his expression thankfully bemused. "A pleasure Miss Dee," his reply was polite before he shot a quick glance in my direction.

"Why hello there, mh, mh, mmhh! It's Miss Dee Licious daahling." She drew the words out, squeezing as much flirtation into them as she could. She took his hand but instead of shaking it she turned hers up so that there was no doubt that she wanted him to kiss the back of it.

To Christian's credit, he hesitated only for a second before giving her an exaggerated, extravagant kiss on the back of her hand, bowing his head slightly. His stunning eyes had softened and were light with amusement. I had to stifle a fit of giggles thrashing to burst out.

"Hmm, hmm!" She smacked her lips in approval and threw her sheer purple scarf over her shoulder. "Did you send these lovely flowers? You should be careful, don't spoil the girl so much sugar, she'll start expecting it from you!" she gave a throaty, roaring laugh at her own joke, winking at me while she patted my arm good-naturedly.

From that moment our day took a swift nosedive. Christian's expression turned from amused to sour in a nanosecond, "no, unfortunately that pleasure was not mine." His voice was gruff and his eyes precipitously cold. With hostility vibrating off him he tilted his head in question to me, expecting an explanation.

"Oooh, an admirer!" If she heard the change in his tone she ignored it and made an exited grab for the card before I could even think of taking it. I cringed and flushed every shade of red.

"Welcome home – from: you know who," she read it out loud and turned the card over to check the back. "It's got two kisses girlfriend!" She was buzzing with excitement on my behalf. "Who's the lucky man that's captured the ice queen's heart?" She speculated suggestively, teasing me only because she knew that I didn't date and Christian snorted sarcastically at the mock nickname.

I took the cups to the sink to hide my scarlet mask, "ah, just a friend." I called over my shoulder as I tried frantically to sound nonchalant, unaffected. _Did I really think this was a good idea?_

"Well, it's about time! A fine little thing like you can't sit on the shelf forever!" another throaty laugh from her and my mortification was complete, glowing on my face and my ears. She had no idea of the history between us and all the heavy, unsaid things filling the room so I couldn't be mad but I knew the time had come to get rid of her.

"Are you on your way to your show?" It was a blatant attempt to change the subject, steering it away from my non-existent love life.

"I sure am honey, it's good to have you back, tell the little prince I'll see him tomorrow," her eyes crinkled at the corners and she smiled a warm smile mentioning Chris.

She turned to Christian pointing a long nail at his chest. "You better move fast honey, if this one," she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at me, "is interested in someone, I think he'll be pretty special. You've got yourself some stiff competition." She put both hands on her hips, persuasive in her particular brand of romantic advice.

It's was my turn to splutter and I found a renewed urgency to get her out. I took her by her muscly upper arm and curled my mouth into a grin I wasn't feeling. With more force than I intended I started to steer her out of the kitchen. Fortunately she went willingly while she waved her goodbye back over her shoulder. "Bye daahling, I'm just next door if she won't give you any lovin'!" She roared with that raspy laugh and wiggled her waving fingers.

Back in the kitchen I found a cool Christian leaning against the counter, both hands on the edge of the top, arms bent at the elbows. His long legs were stretched out on front of him and crossed at the ankles; his burning intensity was seriously opposing his casual demeanour.

"Nice neighbour," he said dryly.

I was shaking in my boots, speculating about the level of his anger? "I like her," I kept my reply even, my voice low and my eyes away from his.

"Are you seeing someone Anastasia?" His voice took on that whispering quality that he assumes when he went thermo but trying very hard to supress it. He was cutting straight to the chase.

I felt a fearful shiver scrape down my spine as I swung my gaze to his, my head cocked to the side. "No, I'm not. He's just a friend." I hope the lie wasn't apparent; I also couldn't miss the dangerous fury in his eyes even if I wanted to.

"Like Jose was just a friend?" He spat at me, face distorted with distaste.

_Oh crap! I didn't want to dwell on Jose!_ I shook my head and bit my lip; fear had stolen my voice, all I could do was stare at him, holding out for the fallout.

I could virtually hear the cogs turning and grinding in his head as he considered the repercussions of not taking me back, of me being free to see someone else. The internal war he was having was spilling across his features but he played it unruffled – always in control.

"You can see who you want," his sculpted mouth bent into a disapproving line as one hand waved me off, dismissively. Still the relaxed arrangement of his body looked unaffected but his eyes were scorching with hostility and he's jaw muscles were working overtime, bunching at the sides of his face as he clenched repeatedly.

My inner goddess rubbed her hands together and grinned, _he's jealous, he wants us!_ But my subconscious snapped at her, _at what cost, you overeager fool? _

"Don't you date?" The hint of irritation in my tone wasn't intentional but his reaction surprised me, he was no monk.

He regarded me coolly for an unbearable minute before he spoke in a menacing baritone, "I see that you're still not listening to me." He let the words hang between us, never taking his focus off me while he waited for me to find some unknown comprehension.

_Huh?_

When it became clear to him that I wasn't going to get whatever sublingual message he was sending me, he answered with a flat, low note, "no Anastasia, I don't."

_No dating or no sex_ I wondered but my inner girls were both shaking their heads at me, _don't go there! _

Of courseI couldn't heed their advice, I was too curious to stop. I simply had to know, "not even a comely, compliant little submissive?" There was no way I could keep the jealous sneer in my words from showing, too much at stake in his answer. It was like watching a car wreck, no matter how horrified you were, you could not look away.

"For fuck's sake Anastasia!" two riled hands took their familiar path through his hair, "have you any idea..?" His voice was raised but he trailed off, shaking his head in frustration or disgust, I couldn't tell.

I could see his aggravation, pulsing through his now rigid pose as he gave me glimpse of the state of his soul and it was clear that I was to blame. A bout of fresh shame had gripped my heart in its merciless claw.

"I have to go, Collins is waiting." The flash of vulnerability he had on display a second ago was now replaced with a curt inflexibility. He head for the door and I followed him meekly where his annoyance was amped up by the fact that it wasn't locked. "This door should be locked," he barked at me with a thunderous frown.

I withered and wilted under his scolding gaze and nodded my acquiescence, "okay." The whisper was so faint that he might not have heard it.

"I'll be in touch." His tall frame was filling my doorway and I risked a peek at him through my lashes. I was expecting him to turn and leave but he lingered, seemingly rooted. I knew that he was sensing the current between us - sparking wildly. Lust, anger and frustration were all brewing and shaping a powerful force field around us and we were both trapped in it, watching each other with parted lips but neither willing to bend to the other's will.

His brow creased as he remembered himself, consciously unplugging from our mutual generator. He gave me an abrupt nod, swivelled on his heal and strode away with a determined and restored purpose. He didn't look back.

I slipped inside and locked the door, leaning my forehead forward and resting it on the door. Slowly I banged my head against the wood in measured thuds, producing a satisfying knock that underlined the pounding in my confused, sorry-ass of a brain.

That was how our day, that held so much promise, ended. Christian and I - mad at each other again and me – conjuring up orgasms in my sleep, born from unrequited sexual tension. I wished that I could kick the crap out of something.

x

_Okay, enough with the wallowing!_ I castigate myself and swing out of bed only to realise how early it is, far too early to be up. I amble to the kitchen, hoping that a cup of tea will make the prospect of my day look less bleak. There's no way I'll I be able to go back to sleep. The apartment is quiet, empty with Chris asleep and I contemplate getting some work done, I still need to go through my contract. It dawns on me that Christian never committed to helping me and my low spirits take a further dive. _Why should he? _

I jab at the on button of my laptop and reach for the fat sheath of papers that make up the details of my future relationship with the BTB publishing company. I was so excited about this deal but in my current frame of mind it all just seems like a big chore. I feel flat and unmotivated and I absentmindedly click on my e-mail icon, fully aware that I'm stalling.

Two heart skipping beats later I look again to make sure I'm not hallucinating. I have an e-mail from Christian! Cautiously I open it, mindful that it may sting.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Past events_

_Date: 17 October 2016 23:52_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_I regret the way we left things this evening. As always I lose all reason around you and it's not conducive to us rebuilding any sort of relationship. I enjoyed spending time with Chris and I sincerely hope that we can come to a mutual agreement regarding visiting rights. I understand that he's still young and that you would have to accompany him if he is to visit me in Seattle. He barely knows me but I very much want to rectify that. I will cover all travel expenses and once your book deal is signed, you could work anywhere, so traveling shouldn't pose a problem._

_I will gladly help you with the negotiations surrounding your contract. Please forward the relevant documents to me and we can discuss it, maybe via Skype. However, I would still prefer Grey Publishing to take you on, that way I know we can ensure that you and your work get the best possible service. Please also forward me your manuscript for my perusal._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_Oh boy!_ Christian - the king of mixed messages! He loses all reason around me, is that good or bad I ponder. He enjoyed spending time with Chris but doesn't mention me. Can I infer from that, that he didn't enjoy spending time with me? But the thing that really gets me, the thing that leaps off the page at me is the fact that he's used those words: "visiting rights". I can't help but feel the underlying legal threat implicit in that term. Facing Christian in court over a custody battle, I would rather eat glass! The cold hand of fear grips my heart and freezes my blood. _He wouldn't, would he? _

I drag my mind away from that horrific thought. The plus side is the help with the contract but deep down I know that he's agreeing because of some misplaced notion that I always need rescuing. Well, in this case I do need help, but still, I don't want to feel like a child whose all-knowing dad (only Christian **isn't** my dad) needs to bail her out - again.

I rest my head in my hands; it's heavy with unresolved thoughts. He would still be in the air; on his way home. This e-mail was sent shortly after he left me last night. At least it gives me a bit of time to think about my reply.

List time I think; whenever I have a really big decision to make I make a list. It helps me see a clear path forward. I look at the facts as they stand at this point in time and I make a resolution not to overthink things.

Christian is attracted to me.

He likes Chris and wants to spend more time with him which also means time with me.

He is Chris' father, a role that he seemed to have embraced.

He thinks there is someone hanging around in my romantic background and it makes him jealous.

He's offered to help me with my book deal.

He's is not in a relationship with another woman.

He doesn't trust me.

Seeing it written down like that it becomes abundantly clear that, apart from the last point, we have everything going for an eventual reconciliation. The trust problem, I must admit, is a big one. Christian values that more than most things. In spite of our undeniable magnetism he's managed very well to keep his distance – way too well if you ask me.

_Can't blame him can you?_ It's the harpy again, pointing out the obvious.

I remember when I first started seeing Christian, in the very early days when we were still discussing contracts and limits. I was so drawn to him and flattered by his interest. I recall being awed by his prowess but I felt intimidated by him and even though I trusted him in the bedroom, I didn't trust him not to break my heart.

He kept pushing me to open up so that he could get to know me and build my trust in him. Even after I left the first time, he went out of his way to re-establish the trust between us; he found a new way for us to be together.

I'm having a moment; I see what I need to do. I have to do what he did in a way that he relates too. When I took punishment off the menu he simply reinvented the rules that governed our relationship. I need to draw up a contract, like what he wanted me to sign but this time, it will be about what he can expect from me, what I will do to gain and keep his trust. Something that shows my commitment to our relationship, a promise that he can keep me to.

Yes! I feel a calmness and direction settle over me, this is a solid idea and I love the intimate reference it will make to our past, our shared history. A damn fine idea indeed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for all the reviews, as I'm sure every writer would tell you, it's what we live for. Please continue to REVIEW!**

Chapter 9

Hope springs forth like a fountain, bubbling into my psyche as I see the seeds of my plan take life in my mind's eye. Yes, this could definitely work. I begin to wonder how to tackle this task. I'm going to have to let this idea percolate in my mind over the course of the next few days. Come up with something that speaks to Christian at his level but, I feel very strongly, that the whole thing shouldn't appear needy or whiney.

I'll answer Christian's e-mail and then, see if I can do some research. I should be able to get some examples of contracts and how they're written and worded on the internet. I smile to myself, somehow I don't think this is the type of thing I can ask a lawyer to help me with.

_To: Christian Grey_

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Date: 18 October 2016 05:17_

_Subject: Welcome home_

_Dear Christian_

_Thank you for e-mail, I trust that you had a good flight and that you arrived safely. I share your regret regarding our parting yesterday. I guess all of this is still pretty new, it will take a bit of adjustment on both our parts to plot a happy way forward. Again, I would like to reiterate how deeply sorry I feel for my actions five years ago, I never foresaw these complicated repercussions, though I know that it's no excuse. _

_I would love for you to spend more time with Chris and I will do everything in my power to accommodate you in that regard. This is something I absolutely don't want to argue about. _

_Thank you for agreeing to help me with my book deal and the negotiations surrounding it. I appreciate your offer to take me on at Grey publishing but I really do like Julie Logan and, as you said yourself, we would make a good fit. Let's see where the negotiating takes us. _

_Anastasia Steele_

I commend myself for handling that so well, I feel that I've kept it fairly neutral and addressed the potentially explosive custody situation in a subtle manner. I fire up Google, time for some contract research.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder why Chris is sleeping so late but I am knee deep in my little project and dismiss the thought – he had a big day yesterday. Then, as if on cue, he stumbles into the kitchen, pale and bleary eyed.

"Mommy," he's rubbing his eyes, his voice raspy and whiney. He walks up to me then climbs onto my lap where he curls up for the comfort only a mom can offer. I wrap my arms around him and breathe in his sleepy scent, his body still warm from his bed.

"Hello darling boy - how was your night?" Sometimes my heart can barely grasp the volume of love it holds for this precious little being.

"I feel bad," he ignores my question; his arm reaches around my neck and holds even tighter while he buries his head in my neck.

"What's wrong baby boy?" The mother in me is instantly on alert as I push him back to put my hand on his forehead, searching his eyes.

Sure enough, he has a temperature and now that I can see his eyes I can see the tell-tale redness of fever there. I groan, "Oh-no buddy, looks like you've got a bug." I wrap my arms around him rocking back and forth, the way he used to love when he was a little baby.

"My throat hurts," he croaks.

I get up with Chris still in my arms and head for the bathroom. "Let's get you some medicine and then you can lie on the couch and watch cartoons." My usually energetic boy just nods into my neck, proving that he really is feeling very sick.

I set him down on the bathroom counter and look into the back of his throat. His tonsils are covered with tiny white spots. My poor baby has tonsillitis. From the bathroom cabinet I grab the trusty pain and fever syrup, measuring some out before he dutifully swallows it. His grimace tells me it tastes yuck. I smile and ruffle his hair then pick him up again. I hate it when he's sick; it always makes me feel so helpless.

As I carry him to our cosy little lounge I remember Christian always saying that I made him feel helpless. With the insight of motherhood I can see how easily overprotectiveness can become a natural extension of helplessness. Right now, I will do anything to take the hurt away from Chris, is that how Christian felt about me?

Yet again I feel sadness curl her fingers around my heart, her irony grip giving me an inkling of the pain I've caused Christian. The sadness drives the shame that's finding an ever firming grip on my mind. _I'm so stupid!_

Motherhood has been such an insightful teacher, giving me a much deeper understanding of life and love. It's ironic how it's given me the tools to understand Christian better. At least now I have a point of reference for unconditional love and I can relate better. Why does it take age to make you realise how little you really know? There were so many things I was certain of and now, looking back, I can see how very wrong I was.

I install Chris on the couch before getting a blanket and his favourite teddy. I expect the medicine to make him drowsy; he'll be comfy on the couch if he falls asleep in front of the TV.

"Do you want something to eat baby boy?" I sit on the edge of the couch and stroke his warm cheek.

He shakes his head, "can I have some juice please mommy?" His hoarse voice and tired eyes tugging at my heart.

"Sure, coming right up!" I interject a sunny note into my tone to lighten his mood - and mine.

I grab the juice from the fridge as well as my laptop. I'll sit with him and do some more research; I don't like to leave him alone when he feels like this. I only have to be at work in the late afternoon and then my mom will come around to look after him.

After reading through another heap of example contracts, a ping alerts me to the arrival of a new e-mail.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Welcome home_

_Date: 18 October 2016 03:47_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_Thank you for your reply. We have just landed in Seattle. I'm pleased to see that you're in an accommodating mood. I shall endeavour to do the same for you. _

_Andrea will check my schedule and send you some blocks of time that would be suitable for a visit from you. Please go through it and let me know what works with your schedule and Chris' school. You can stay with me in the apartment at Escala. _

_I look forward to receiving your manuscript._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

I don't mind the bossy, authoritative tone of his e-mail - not like I used to - but I hate this formality between us. It's like he's refusing to connect with his feelings for me, treating me like an employee. It's so frustrating. Duelling with Christian Grey's formidable self-control is not something to be taken lightly!

I feel like shaking him by the shoulders and yelling "feel!" at him. He should be so angry with me after what I did. I'm sure that there're things he wants to say to me, to tell me how stupid I've been, just to get it off his chest but his self-loathing has internalised all those emotions to the point of him blaming himself – all courtesy of bitch-troll Elena. Man, I hate that woman. What I could do to that monster, kicking her in the shin would bring me some much needed stress relief…

The thought tugs the corners of my mouth into a self-satisfied smile. Ah well, I shrug my shoulders, trying to shake of the residual ager I feel whenever I think of her - a girl can dream. I pull my notes closer, ready again to wrestle with the wording of my unusual contract.

An hour later I'm all contracted-out and in need of breakfast and a break. I consider getting Chris to the doctor's but first I have to answer Christian's e-mail.

_To: Christian Grey_

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Date: 18 October 2016 09:39_

_Subject: Visit_

_Dear Christian_

_I will get those dates to you as soon as I have your schedule, we would love to come and visit you, thank you again for the offer. _

_Chris had a very late sleep-in this morning and I assumed it was because of his big day with you yesterday but it turns out our little boy has tonsillitis. He's resting on the couch and I think I should get him to the doctor this morning. I'm sure that he'll need antibiotics. I'll be working this evening but my mom will be here looking after him._

_I have attached my manuscript for you to look at. I would appreciate your thoughts on it._

_I hope you have a pleasant day in your world of mergers and acquisitions._

_Anastasia Steele_

I wonder if he'll pick up on the fact that I'm referring to Chris as "our boy" as I hit send. I know I mustn't expect too much but I can't help hoping that the notion of a whole, complete family spurs him into action. In hindsight I'm not sure mentioning Chris being sick was a good idea, I hope he won't worry too much.

I shuffle to the kitchen and leave a sleeping Chris behind. After my usual breakfast of granola and yoghurt I brush my teeth and get dressed. Just as I finish brushing my hair I hear the ding of the doorbell. As I ambled to the front door I idly wondered who it could be, I wasn't expecting anyone.

Being with Christian has ruined me for all other men; he's so stunningly beautiful, accomplished in so many things, that no-one else has ever managed to turn my head. I've come to accept that there will never be anybody who can compete with him but as my door swings open, I hear my own breath catch. I'm greeted by an extremely attractive, rugged looking man with roguish green eyes and a sexy, toothpaste ad-ready smile.

_Oh my!_ "Uhm, hello…can I help you?" I stammer over my words as I stare blatantly, being caught unawares as my jaw almost drops to the floor.

"Hi. Anastasia Steele? I'm Dr Shawn O'Reily," a confident grin curves his full mouth before he continues, "- paediatrician. I'm here to see Chris." He holds out his big hand as the gentle Irish tones of his accent caress my ears.

I take the proffered hand blindly, the shock of this stunning man in my doorway and the fact that he's a doctor - doing a surprise house call - has rendered me hunting for my lost words. "How did you.." I trail off as clarity settles. Christian's arranged for a doctor – a paediatrician no less – to come and see Chris!

He instantly and correctly surmises the situation, effortlessly sliding into a skilled comforting mode, a bedside manner obviously honed to perfection. "I take it Mr Grey hasn't had time to let you know that I was coming? He's very concerned for your son and um…" a quick flash of embarrassment announced the obscene amount of money I suspected he was getting for this unconventional house call before he continued: "...persuaded me to come and see how he's doing."

My astounded eyes are so glued to the chiselled jaw, wavy dark-blond hair and strong body that it takes a few moments for me to register that I need to let him in. I blink into smiling eyes and come to my senses. _Wow!_

"Ah.. yes, of course, please come in." I've never been more grateful that I've brushed my hair and I'm not still wearing my tatty pyjamas.

Dr O'Reily has to duck slightly as he walks through the doorway, his tall frame filling the corridor space as he waits for me to close the door and lead the way. I wonder if Christian knows how good looking the good doctor is. My inner goddess is fanning herself, beside herself with interest.

The thought brings realisation with a sickening thud and my heart plummets into my boots, Christian would have checked and re-checked every detail about this doctor thoroughly before sending him to us. He's never been one to tolerate flirty, attractive men around me; if he suddenly doesn't care that I get an eye-full of hunky man, is it because he doesn't care to have me back?

_Shit! It's confusion central in my head._

I push the thought aside for later, eager to make full use of the convenient doctor. "He's having a nap at the moment; I gave him some paracetamol syrup after I checked his throat and saw the inflammation on his tonsils." I explain to Dr O'Reily as we reach my sleeping boy. I've mercifully recovered most of my equilibrium and now I'm out to impress the doc as some ancient and unwelcome male revering female gene kicks in. I stand straighter, flipping my hair over my back and smile brightly, hoping to exude some "super-woman" vibes.

_What's wrong with me?_ My body inviting flirtation that my mind is rebelling against. I focus, ordering my body back in line. _Just because there's a virile male around doesn't mean we have to go all cave girl on his ass!_

He drops to his knees next to Chris, throwing me a reassuring smile over his bulky shoulder. "Aye, that's good, it's really all you can do. Make him comfortable so he can rest and keep an eye on the pain and fever."

I touch Chris' face to help him wake up and sleepy, unfocussed eyes find mine. "Hi buddy, I have a doctor here to have a look at you. Will you let him take a look at your throat?" I coax gently and worm in beside him on the couch. He groans and pushes himself up as he eyes the doctor wearily. I pull him onto my lap to give Dr O'Reily better access to his throat and ears.

The doctor does a thorough examination and chats to Chris about football. Chris gets a little more animated now that the Georgia Bulldogs is the topic of discussion, especially since the doc likes the same team. _Boys, they're so easily distracted! _Dr O'Reily questions me about allergies, asthma and Chris' general diet.

"He's usually very lively, he eats well and he almost never gets sick, I can't even remember the last time he needed a doctor." My voice sounds all breathy, still flirty – how annoying that my body can act like this without my mind's consent?

"No history of ear infections then?" The doc asks while looking into Chris' ears with a coned light.

I shake my head, "no doctor O'Reily, I was told that the breastfeeding would help with that," I clarify, "you know, to prevent ear infections in infants."

His sparkling eyes catch mine and I clock surprise and then a flash of something I can't quite name. I sense the red flush creeping across my cheeks as I see his eyes flick over my breasts for a millisecond before resting on my face again. His full lips curl into a slow, lazy smile, "please call me Shawn, and yes, I'm sure that's the case. So many women prefer not to nurse these days. You can't give your child any better gift."

Somehow he makes it sound erotic, especially paired with the steamy look he gives me. My subconscious drops into a dead faint onto her chaise lounge and my inner goddess is revelling in the unexpected flirt session. I, on the other hand, am speechless for the second time today. _What!?_

My mind is scrambling for something appropriate to say but I only manage to gape uncomprehendingly at him. "Uhm…so… it's the tonsils?" It's the best by befuddled brain can come up with, change of subject as defence.

Dr Shawn stands up and nods, "I will give you a course of antibiotics to give him, do you still have enough pain and fever medication?" He can see how uncomfortable I am but judging by his huge grin, he's finding it amusing.

"Okay,…ah, yes, thank you," I stroke Chris' hair absentmindedly, struggling to channel my inner poise. I stand with Chris in my arms hoping that he'll act as a human barrier. Maybe if I remind him that I have a child with a father – albeit and absent one, he'll back off.

He cocks his head to one side, no doubt in response to my flushed reply. He hands me the antibiotic suspension. "I don't usually do this, I like to keep things professional," his tone is still teasing, his eyes still laughing. "Let me take you out to dinner when this big lad feels better and you can get away."

Chris jumps in with an excited reply on my behalf, "yes mommy, let's go with Dr Shawn, and he can take us to a game and then we can have ice-cream and stay up late!" His excitement makes the words tumble out in a rush. At least he seems to be feeling a bit better.

If I wasn't so shocked at Dr Shawn's flirtatious ways, it would be funny that Chris thinks he'd be welcome on a first date - my little boy clearly doesn't grasp the intricacies of dates and romance yet.

"Maybe another time buddy but you," I tickle him lightly on his chest, "must get better first and then, when you're well, we'll be going on a little holiday to visit my friend Christian." _Please, please let my patented distraction technique work on Chris_ I beg silently. I look pointedly at Dr Shawn when I say Christian's name, hoping he can read between the lines and get my "unavailable" message.

My inner goddess is not pleased, _a romantic date with someone who desires us; it's just what we need! _She pouts and stomps her stiletto clad foot.

"Ooh, holiday, hooray!" Chris wiggles from my arms and forgets all about "our" date with Dr Shawn. _Yes!_ He waves at Dr Shawn and runs off is search of something to do.

_Oh no, Chris was supposed to be my shield._ I suddenly feel very naked standing alone with Dr Shawn and his blatant carnal intentions, mostly because he looks at me like I'm not wearing a thing.

"Anastasia, may I call you that?" He doesn't wait for my reply and those green eyes have gone smoky. "I'm not the type of man who takes "no" for an answer and I'm as patient as they come." He reaches out and runs the back of his hand down the side of my face and then brushes my bottom lip lightly with the pad of his thumb.

I feel like Bambi. My wide eyes are locked into his; I cannot tear my gaze away for all the love and money in the world. "I… I can't," is all I can manage to squeak, mortification only colouring my blush brighter.

_Oh boy,_ he's attractive and that self-assured arrogance is definitely doing things for me but there's no point in indulging in this fantasy – Christian is the man for me, I'm not going to let my traitorous body and slutty inner goddess dictate my choices in men.

_On the other hand_ – surprisingly it's my subconscious talking – _how much less complicated would our lives be with a "normal" man?_

His expression tells me that he's not at all convinced by my answer. "We'll see," comes his measured reply as he winks salaciously at me, another hungry smirk playing on his lips while he holds my gaze for way longer than appropriate.

My mouth has gone bone dry and I know that beet red doesn't begin to describe the colour I must be by now. _How can he enjoy my obvious discomfort like that? It's so un-gentlemanly!_

"I'll need to see Chris again for a follow-up appointment, just to be sure that he's in the clear, say in five or six days' time." Again I hear all sorts of sub text in the tone he's using. Maybe it's the sexy accent - I try to justify his overt interest, maybe I've gone mad.

"Sure, we'll come to your office." _Good plan Ana! _I congratulate myself. Neutral ground with lots of people around, that should keep Dr Mc Flirty in his place.

He extracts a business card and hands it to me, "don't lose it," he whispers as he takes my hand and folds my fingers around the card. His grip is firm; his touch sure and warm. Again his intense, emerald eyes probe and linger slowly, leaving no room for misreading his blatant signals.

He breaks contact and strides off, his broad shoulders dwarfing my hallway and then, he's gone. _Phew!_ I let go of a long held breath.

_Holy cow_! That was… _sexy_ – my inner goddess' contribution is so typical of her.

_Intense_ is the word my subconscious mouths at me.

_Yes_, I think and shocking, and crazy and very inappropriate.

I give my head a little shake to clear the fog and head for my laptop, suddenly feeling unreasonably angry. Christian really should learn some boundaries. The least he could do was warn me.

Before I have time to look too deeply into my unexpected ire a strange thought pops into my head. Could Christian have deliberately sent a super-hot guy to test me? _No,_ I reply to myself - he could never have known that Chris would be sick and between getting the e-mail and organising the doctor, I don't think he would have had time to dream up with a scheme like that. Strangely I feel disappointed. At least it would mean that he was thinking about the possibility of "us".

I click on my e-mail icon and find a waiting mail from Christian, my heart doing its usual flutter as I open it up.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Doctor's visit_

_Date: 18 October 2016 09:58_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_I have been trying to call you but as was the case so often in the past, you are hard to reach. I really hope you can appreciate how imperative it is that I am able to contact you._

_I have arranged for a leading paediatrician to come and make a house call to see to Chris. I only want the best care for him. _

_Doctor Shawn O'Reily comes highly recommended and is the author of several paediatric textbooks as well as a lecturer on the subject at various prestigious universities._

_I have received your manuscript and shall get back to you regarding a negotiating strategy by tomorrow._

_Please keep me up to date with Chris' progress._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_Oh, he did try to contact me._ I scramble up and go in search of my mobile phone. _Oops!_ I have four missed calls and as many messages. I've forgotten it on the silent setting. Getting up so early this morning was a break in my usual routine, it slipped my mind. Now I feel like and errant child again, his rebuking manner never fails to reduce me to my inner five-year-old. I hate that he's caught me on the wrong foot - again.

I sit down to answer his e-mail, thinking of something placating to say in my defence but curiosity overcomes me first. I do a quick search of Dr Shawn on trusty Google and it soon becomes apparent why Christian chose him. Like Christian, he really is a leader in his chosen profession but the thing that strikes me is that all the photos of Dr Shawn are dreary, the pose reminiscent of a book's publicity stills. They're all in black-and-white and for some reason he used to wear a full beard and nerdy glasses that made him look book-wormy and unattractive. Without the benefit of colour, you can't see his lovely eyes and because all are only head shots, you would never guess the rugged, manly physique he sports.

_Oh goodie!_ I clap my hands together with glee. Christian had no way of knowing that Dr Shawn is *Dr Mc Dreamy and Mc Steamy all rolled into one! I flush and look around; inexplicably paranoid that someone may have witnessed my girlish little whim even though I know I'm all alone.

_To: Christian Grey_

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Date: 18 October 2016 11:09_

_Subject: Doctors visit_

_Dear Christian_

_Thank you for organising a house call, that was very thoughtful and convenient. The doctor was very thorough and accommodating. Chris does indeed have tonsillitis and has been put on a course of antibiotics. We will need to go to a follow-up appointment in a week's time. I think he's feeling better, especially after a dose of the pain medication. He'll miss a few days of pre-school as he needs to rest. Easier said than done for a toddler._

_I apologise for missing your calls, I neglected to switch my mobile back to sound mode._

_I look forward to your review of my manuscript._

_Anastasia Steele_

After giving our apartment a quick once-over with the vacuum, I give-in to a bored Chris' constant badgering and play with him. We colour in, we race with some remote control cars and I've read way too many stories that we both already know off by heart.

The door-bell drags me away from the seventh time reading * "The Cat in the Hat" that day.

Another unexpected visitor I muse as I open the door. This time it's Christian's close personal protection security guy from last night – Collins – that's darkening my door. _What does he want?_

"Ma'am" he nods his head in greeting, "reporting for duty. I'll do a sweep of the apartment and make the necessary adjustments." Taylor's detached clone is in no mood for niceties and I notice that I don't get asked, but told.

This must be part of Christian's promise of security detail for us he mentioned in a previous e-mail. I'd forgotten all about that. Well, at least these days I know better than to fight it. Resigned to the loss of my privacy I step away from the door and wave Collins in.

Collins wastes no time and is soon fiddling around the apartment fixing my apparently numerous security breaches. I roll my eyes at all the fuss. I'm exhausted from all the toddler play and beginning to run out of calm indoor activities to occupy Chris. By 2:00pm I can see that he's ready for another nap but before I can persuade him the doorbell rings again.

I frown to myself and for the third time today wonder who it can be. We seem to be very popular today but I'm a little apprehensive, I'm not sure I can take any more unexpected surprises. I make to open the door but Collins almost tackles me out of the way in his haste to stop me.

He gives me a stern look, "I will be doing that ma'am, please step away."

_Urgh!_ I already forgot all about him, his talent for making himself invisible working a little too well. This is going to take some getting used to; my apartment is way too small for three people!

He opens the door and I hear him do a thorough security check on the unsuspecting person. He steps back in and gives me an "okay" sign with his thumb and forefinger, finally allowing me to meet my visitor. _Ah, ex-special forces_ I think as I recognise the covert field sign he uses. Silently I thank Ray for my comprehensive knowledge of all things military - much more than is normal for a regular girl like me.

I step out to my now, very secure front door area and come face-to-face with a bored young delivery guy with brown curly hair frizzing beneath a baseball cap and a noisy gum chewing habit.

"Ms Steele?" He holds out an electronic signature pad.

"Yes. What is it?" I'm puzzled by the box he hands me.

"Dunno ma'am, I just pick 'em up and deliver 'em." He pops his gum loudly and waits impatiently for me to sign the pad. He eyes the big guy behind me with suspicion, probably wondering why someone in this neighbourhood is in need of a bodyguard. If only he knew…

He leaves and Collins makes light work of the box, carrying it into the house but only after he secured the front door. It now sports a new keypad with a flashing red light. No doubt some hi-tech security gadget bound to cause me some frustration down the line.

Of course Chris thinks Collins is just the coolest thing and he high-fives Collins as he sets the box on the low coffee table in the lounge. Chris gets a friendly grin and mentally I huff, I only get tackled and stern lectures.

Chris joins me as I start to open the box. He bounds around like an excited puppy, "maybe it's a horse or…or….or a rocket! Hurry mommy, be quick!"

I laugh and carefully slice through the tape. "It's a bit small to be a horse honey, but maybe it's a year supply of broccoli!"

His face is a picture of shock and horror before he realises that I'm joking and then eagerly helps me scoop out the protective foam shells. It's like were digging for treasure. So much for vacuuming the carpet I think as they settle like fat snowflakes on my previously pristine floor.

I pull out the first box and both Chris and I gasp at the stunning toy. It's a cork board with coloured wooden shapes that you can nail into the board to make pictures. It comes with a little hammer and tiny nails.

This can only be from Christian. I remember my last e-mail's comment about how hard it is to keep Chris resting. It's just like Christian to notice a detail like that and my heart wants to burst with affection for him. I just know that everything in the box will be educational and fun, chosen with the utmost care.

Next Chris pulls out a LEGO set with a pirate theme. It has all the bits to build the pirate ship pictured on the box. He squeals with delight and shakes it, jumping from one foot to the other, buzzing with elation.

The last item is an ipad with a sticky note attached to the box. A melancholy settles uneasily in my heart as a strong sense of déjà vu washes over me. Christian gave me an ipad once before….

_Anastasia_

_This item is for you but I took the liberty of downloading some children's movies and educational applications for Chris as well. Please take note that experts recommend that small children not exceed more than two hours of computer, gaming and/or TV time per day._

_I added the * "My writing spot" application for you. It's a writing app that allows you to write on all your electronic devices which then gets synced so that you always have access to the latest version of your manuscript._

_Christian_

My mind boggles at how he always manages to do the most thoughtful and romantic things for me. His comment about toddlers and TV is so typical of his overbearing nature but shows that he's gone to the trouble of researching the topic. The gesture touches my soul, especially because it involves the wellbeing of my son. I feel the tears well up and quickly swipe them away with the back of my hand before Chris picks up on my sadness but it's too late. He drops the box and comes over to me, his little face serious and concerned, his joy forgotten for now.

"Why are you crying mommy? Are you mad at Santa?" He stokes my hair and I feel awful that I can't contain my brimming emotions. Lucky his question is so funny that I snort-laugh through my silly tears and his sweet face relaxes.

"No buddy, I'm not mad at Santa, I'm just so happy for you!" I grab him under his arms and pull him onto me as I tickle him and kiss his face.

Tears gone, we roll around wrestling and giggling. I'm grateful for Collins' ability to disappear; this is not the type of moment that you want to share with outsiders.

Once we come down from our giggle-high he settles on the floor and starts to open the first toy. "You know, these presents aren't from Santa." I don't want to burst his bubble but I think it's important that he knows that they're from Christian, it will be a solid way to build on the good experience Chris had with him yesterday.

"Yes they are!" Earnest eyes look into mine, "Santa is the only one who has enough money to buy lots of presents at a time."

I love the kid logic behind his reasoning. "Santa doesn't buy presents, his elves makes them!" I teasingly remind him, gently bumping my shoulder against his.

I watch him carefully as he turns over this new piece of information. I give him an encouraging smile but nothing in the world can prepare me for his response. My blood turns to ice as he looks down and then up to me again. His eyes large and shining with hope, his voice a whisper – almost reverent: "are they from my real daddy?"

_**Please take note of the following borrowed terms and titles:**_

_***Taken from Grey's Anatomy, American Broadcasting Company.**_

_***The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss.**_

_***My Writing Spot, application by Peter de Tagyos**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Once again thank you so much for the reviews. To all of you who sign-in as guests, the FF system does not allow me to reply to them, so thank you for your comments and reviews. Please, please keep commenting!**

Chapter 10

He's never asked about his dad before! It's a question that I've been dreading for the longest time and not one that I've ever managed to find a reply too, especially since I never thought that Christian would be in our lives.

_Oh, what to do?_

Did I even know that he thought about his dad? I give myself a mental smack on the forehead. _He's a little boy, of course he thinks about his dad!_

I do and I don't want him to know that Christian is his dad. I don't even think that he really understands the implications of his question. If I can read his wide-eyed, awed expression correctly then he seems to have constructed some vague, mythical image in his mind of a father that no man can ever live up to.

If I tell him; then I increase Christian's level of responsibility to Chris a hundred fold, I'm not sure Christian can live up to Chris' expectations of a dad yet, though I can see that he clearly has potential. If I don't, I might not get another perfect opportunity like this and I don't want to get into a situation where he befriends Christian and then finds out that we withheld this vital piece of information from him. The last thing we want is for him to feel betrayed by Christian – by us. He might still be small but I feel strongly that he wouldn't like to find out that I lied to him, no matter what the reason.

My ringing mobile halts my worried thoughts. _Saved by the bell – or rather phone!_ Maybe Chris will forget about his question I think when I look at the caller ID flashing in blue and stopping my heart - it's Christian.

"Hi," I try to interject some laid-back sexy into my voice. I put my free hand in the back pocket of my jeans and stride away from Chris as I glace over my shoulder to check that he's occupied enough not to mind me stealing away for a bit of privacy.

"Anastasia," a thrill runs through me as he says my name in that slow gravely drone of his. "Thank you for taking my call."

His dry sarcasm catapults me back to so many previous conversations that I unthinkingly slip into our old playful, bantering mode. "Why Mr Grey," I flirt, "I thought you said that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," I'm sure that he can hear full, beaming smile in my teasing words.

I hear him draw a sudden harsh breath, the way I used to address him as well as the reference to a long-ago conversation jarring him. I realise that, for a moment, I was his wife again, phone sparring with the relaxed ease of a happily married couple.

My blush comes so fast and hard that I fear he might hear the blood rushing to my face. _How did that happen?!_ I dish out another mental smack for my forehead, casting my eyes heavenward in exasperation with my blunder. _Honestly!_

"Ana… I… I just called to see how you were getting along with Collins." He's already recovered but his slight falter gives him away. I can't help the skip my pulse makes at the thought that I might have unnerved him.

I have to muster my full concentration to keep my mind on the conversation. "Thank you Christian, he seems very… efficient." That's the best I can do, I hate having someone else here, invading my space, but tolerance is all part of the get-Christian-back plan.

"That's good to hear. Yes, uhm, how is Chris feeling?" I take in that he's still rattled; it curls up the corners of my mouth, helping me to unwind a little.

"He's better thank you, as long as he gets the medicine he's quite happy but if it wears off," I shrug even though he can't see me, "his fever spikes and he gets lethargic. He'll be fine." I'm eager to reassure him, I remember how worried he can get. "Thank you so much for your thoughtful gifts for him – and me." I feel like a schoolgirl; shy and uncertain, talking to her dream guy. If my phone had a cord I'd be twirling it around my finger.

"You are most welcome Anastasia. I hope it will be useful." _Ah, _I sigh,_ reserved Fifty is back. _

We both hang on the line, quiet but unwilling to end the conversation. A brewing silence settles between us while I picture our individual psyches reaching for each other, trying to re-tie the connection that we both need to be whole. I wonder if he's experiencing it like I am – that ever present pull, a physical sensation of being drawn. My half is voicing the words I cannot, silently screaming; _"I love you so much."_

The moment is shattered by a sudden, loud clatter on Christian's side. I hear fumbling and then he's back on the line, "I'm sorry, I…um, I dropped the phone."

_Holy shit, he did feel it!_ Take that Mr Control! I ball my fist and yank my bent arm down – _Yes!_

"Are you okay?" My mock concern is doing a poor job of hiding the massive grin on my face.

"Yes… er, fine. Thank you." His stilted reply only highlights his embarrassment that he's trying to veil, making my over exited mind wander over all sorts of possibilities.

I can't dwell too long on the happy path my thoughts are exploring because Chris' question pushes to the forefront. Christian said that I should discuss parenting matters with him; this could be an ideal starting point, especially as it involves him.

"Christian, there's something I'd like to discuss with you. It's a delicate matter and I would appreciate your input, especially as it pertains to you." I pause to give him time to digest the information, hoping that I don't scare him off.

"Anything Anastasia, you should know that." His quiet reply comes as no surprise, his unmoving strength always a great comfort.

"When Chris got the gifts, the ones you sent," I clarify, "he first thought it was from Santa," I giggle because really, it was so cute.

"But in the light of your new relationship with him, I felt that it was important that he knew it was from you so, to redirect his train of thought, I said some things to help him think it through for himself. I felt that he would - you know - connect the dots and it would lead him to you." I hesitate, unsure how Christian is going to react.

"Go on," he gently prods, his timbre still warm and reassuring.

"His little face just lit up when he arrived at his conclusion, I assumed that he would ask if it was from you, as "my friend" Christian, but instead he asked if it was from his dad." My voice turns to a low whisper; I hold my breath as my teeth rake nervously over my lip.

His sharp intake of breath is audible over the phone. "Anastasia, what did you say? Do you think he knows that I'm his father?" Christian's voice is quiet but undoubtedly marred with a heavy dose of anxiety and understandably surprised at the bombshell I just dropped in his unsuspecting lap.

"No, no I don't think so," I rush to set his mind at rest, "I just think that he thinks about his dad - you know - like all little boys, and he might be longing for that connection. I didn't say anything….. I didn't know what to say."

My answer is met with a brooding silence and I feel a growing uneasiness gnawing at my stomach, tension building with each passing second. _What is he thinking?_

"Say something please!" No longer able to bear the distance I suddenly perceive between us I beg for a clue to his thoughts. I'm wringing my fingers together, clutching the phone between my ear and shoulder.

His reply is laced with uncertainty, "what do you think? I'd like him to know, sooner rather than later, I want to be part of his life Anastasia."

I sigh, relief crashing over me, "I know. I want that too." The respite doesn't last long as I begin to fear for my little boy, how would he handle news like that? Again I'm reminded of the crushing repercussions that my rash decision is forcing on all of us. My emotions are constantly warring, vacillating between anger and devouring guilt.

"If you tell him, I'd like to be there to share that moment with him. He's a good boy, strong and well balanced, I'm sure he'll be fine." All trace of uncertainty has gone and authoritative, decisive Christian is at the helm.

My jaw drops to the floor, he's only just met Chris, how can he be so sure? My mind momentarily tangles with that until it shifts gear and cottons onto the fact that Christian wants to be present when I tell him. With that he presents me with the perfect opportunity to further my plan, unwittingly stoking my thoughts with endless, new possibilities. My inner goddess is positively joyous.

"We could tell him together," I breathe, hope flaring like a sail in the wind.

"I'm tied up all week in negotiations with the Koreans so I could fly in on Saturday, maybe even Friday night. Do you think he could wait until then?"

_Okay Ana, seize the day, be bold!_ "Or we could come to you?" I bite back my smile at the thought of Christian tied up…

"You would do that?" his voice is low, unmistakably incredulous with something else that I can't place – maybe hope?

"This is important." I shrug my shoulders to lend credibility to my words but deep down I know that my willingness to go has a lot to do with getting us closer to Christian. _My grand plan, I might even get an opportunity to give him my contract…_

"Okay." For a beat he sounds uncertain leaving me wondering about what. "I'll set it up but I don't want Chris to travel while he's sick. When did the doctor say that he could go back to school?"

My inner goddess stomps her foot, pouting childishly – _why_ _can't we go today? _

He really didn't say so I lie just a little: "I think he said by Friday." My subconscious is shaking her disapproving head and wagging a finger at me in warning: _Anastasia Rose Steele are you lying? _

I brush off her remark, justifying my actions:_ it's for our greater good! _Glad that Christian can't see the rosy tinge the teeny lie pinched my cheeks with.

"Just to be safe, let's give it an extra day. I'll arrange for the Jet to be ready for take-off on Saturday morning, say 9:00am? Collins will liaise with Taylor and get you to the airport, he will organise a man to watch your apartment while you're away."

_Details, details, I don't care; we're going to Seattle, on Saturday! Yay!_

"Thank you Christian, I'll try my best to distract him until then." Surely my wide smile must bleed through my words, consciously I bite my lip to stop my ridiculously breathy reaction from giving away my over eagerness.

After we say our good-byes, I wander back to Chris but the doorbell chimes. I hope it's my mom – I don't know if I can stand any more surprises today. It must be later than I thought which means I should be getting ready for work.

This time I remember the new protocol and let Collins do his security thing. After my mom is cleared for visiting he disappears again.

She looks a bit shell shocked at being put through a rigorous check at her own daughter's front door. "Don't ask!" I roll my eyes and she snorts, correctly surmising that Mr Grey is to blame.

She wraps me in a bear hug and I feel my tension ease a little. "Hello darling," pushing back she lets her hands rest on my shoulders as she scans my expression, looking for clues - like only a mother can - to judge my current emotional state.

I give her a warm, reassuring smile, "I'm good mom, we're good. Thank you." I hope she sees the good news reflected in my brighter eyes.

When we start down the passage Chris comes barrelling through and jumps into his grandma's arms, always eager to spend time with the person who likes nothing more than to play endless, patient games with him. Thank goodness she's strong and fit enough to indulge his energy levels.

"Gran, come and see what I have!" He slips from her arms again and drags her to the lounge. "I'm sick, and the doctor came and I got lots of presents! Look! Look gran!" I always marvel at his capacity for enjoying things so much, seizing the moment with every ounce of strength he has. We get so jaded as adults.

My mom dutifully ooh's and ah's at everything and I wince good naturedly at the busy afternoon ahead of her, playing with her now invigorated grandson. Four year olds can be exhausting but she easily takes it in her stride.

When Chris goes to his room to fetch something I quickly fill my mom in on the latest developments, telling her about his loaded "real father" question and that, at least for the moment, he mercifully seemed to have forgotten about it.

She grimaces in response and squeezes my hand, I guess fielding difficult questions is just part and parcel of parenting so unable to offer advice she distracts me instead,"wow, he got a pead to come and check in on Chris? He always did know how to take care of his loved ones." Her dry reply is teamed with a pointed look in my direction, undoubtedly designed to remind me of what I let slip through my fingers.

The heat of the thrill I felt moments ago about traveling to Seattle turns cool, recriminations pushing all happy thoughts away. I sigh, deflated; _will I ever be able to move past the stupid road I chose?_

After cuddling my precious boy and hugging my mother I leave for my shift at the restaurant but not before Collins reminds me that yet another Taylor clone will be keeping a watchful eye on me tonight.

With a small show of stubbornness I dodge being driven to work by Carl, my security detail for the evening. I much prefer to walk the two blocks to work, especially after being cooped up in the apartment all day. With the stern slant of my mouth and the rigid set of my shoulders I think it quickly became clear to Collins that he wasn't going to win that particular battle thus relenting to me this rare one time.

The Savannah weather is a little milder this time of year and I enjoy the refreshing walk, stretching my disused limbs. I unbridle my thoughts, letting them wander freely over all the delicious possibilities our trip may bring. Maybe, if I'm really lucky, I'll be in Christian's arms by this time next week… possibly even his bed. I luxuriate in that delectable fantasy for a minute before I come to an abrupt halt, my subconscious giving me a metal slap behind my head - _birth control! _

The person behind me has to swerve to avoid bumping into me as I stand immobilised and lost in shocked thought on the curb. She frowns over her shoulder muttering about stopping in front of people then strides away quickly, shaking her head in annoyance.

_Of course, I want desperately to believe that I wasn't going to undertake this visit without giving that aspect a second thought if Miss Prim didn't happen to remind me. _My single minded inner goddess is only too happy we're going; I know she wouldn't be of any help in that regard.

I paw at my bag to dig out my phone, an unshakable urgency driving me to make an appointment this very instant. I step out of the flow of pedestrians clutching the phone to my ear, impatiently counting the rings before I can let my mind rest.

While waiting I catch Carl marching up to me, grim concern carved into his oh-so-serious face, "Ms Steele, is everything all right?" I notice that his one hand is behind his back, under his jacket.

_Oh dear, it's resting on his side arm! _

"I'm fine, perfectly fine, thank you." I say holding my hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "I just forgot to confirm an appointment and I don't want to lose it." I'm quick to reassure him glaring pointedly at his hidden hand. Thankfully he flicks his jacket back in place with a practiced manoeuvre so typical of his profession; he nods backing away to blends into the crowd once more.

_Talk about overprotective!_

Blowing out a liberating breath I feel a mammoth sense of relief, I've secured an appointment for tomorrow morning. I have a great GP, not only is she's a woman but she's trained to do all sorts of minor gynaecological procedures, like a mini gaynae, perfect for what I have in mind.

Dropping my phone into my bag, thoroughly pleased; I turn to hurry before I'm late for work. The high I'm on is very short lived as it occurs to me that in the past, birth control always took a while to take effect. _Oh no_, I groan inwardly, I don't have weeks to wait and Christian hates condoms! I can only hope that birth control technology has advanced along with the times.

I don't mind the restaurant, it keeps me busy and with tips, it pays quite well but the greatest benefit has been the hours. I get to spend some precious, quality time with Chris that a normal job would never allow, not to mention the extra time to write. It's not as glamorous as publishing but at least I still get my fix of books from the local public library where I sometimes temp.

The restaurant is busy enough to make the time fly and all too soon we're stacking chairs. I managed to wrangle myself some more time off – again. Secretly I hope that this time, it will be for good.

As I leave, Carl materialises from the shadows that he lurks in and insists on driving me home and I happily accept. Being rushed off my feet and the possibility of Collins grumbling to Christian about my noncompliance is as good a motivator as any. Then again, I think dreamily, maybe I should risk it. He might come in person and spank me….

I hop into the back seat commending myself for being so amenable but the thought of Christian's hands caressing my naked behind and sensually smacking me lingers tantalisingly in my mind's eye sending a slow shiver down my spine.

In the short ride home I manage to daydream unabashedly about all the rude things we could be doing to each other. My heart quickens and my nipples pucker as I think about taking him into my mouth. His distinct smell, the sexy and surprising combination of rock hard and velvety softness, the look of sheer ecstasy on his face, coming undone with the pleasure I can give him….

_Mmmmmmhhhhh….._

Carl clears his throat, unwittingly dragging me away from my naughty thoughts._ Damn, we're home!_ I didn't even notice him waiting ever so patiently for me to climb out of the car as he holds the door for me.

Reluctantly I leave my erotic notions behind and trudge up the stairs with Carl tailing behind – the protocol is for him to hand me over to Collins face-to-face. I sigh again finding the whole security thing just a tad too much. As usual Christian has gone overboard, as arguing the point has become moot I can only grudgingly resign myself to my chaperoned state.

Once I wished my mom a good night I steal into Chris' room for a peek at my sleeping angel-boy. I can never go to sleep without checking in on him first, lingering to watch him sleep my heart warms, arranging my features in a glow of adoration while I gently stroke his hair. I adjust his cover to keep him snug and drop a barely-there kiss on his plump cheek. After a quick shower my exhausted body flops into bed and slips effortlessly into a deep sleep.

Dreamless night behind I wake up feeling refreshed and not just a little eager to get going with my day, to tick off another step that will inch me closer to complete my big, bold plan. My neighbour Jo-Anne will be watching Chris while I go to the doctor's today, she's always eager to take him knowing that her son Joshua along with Chris will keep each other busy and out of her hair.

I just hope that Chris is well enough for a play date this morning, he obviously had a good sleep; never waking from any discomfort so he should be well rested.

I shuffle into the kitchen for some tea to help me wake up but the fright I get bumping into Collins does the task instead. _I really must try to remember that he's here!_ He looks fresh and ready for action, his crisp, clean shirt straining over his substantial biceps leading me to wonder if and how he slept.

"Ma'am" comes his clipped, unemotional greeting. Concise and economical, just like the man himself.

"Hi Collins, would you like some coffee?" I ask as I flick on the kettle.

"No thank you ma'am, we just need to go over your schedule for the day." He's all business; his enquiring brown eyes missing nothing as they follow me making tea.

"Uhm, yes, I have a doctor's appointment at 8:50 and then I'd like to go for a quick shop, Chris and I need some warm things for Seattle." I drag my laptop closer, across the table and switch it on, looking forward to the constancy of my morning ritual, tea and e-mail.

"Will Chris be accompanying you?" He's making notes on his space age smart phone, tapping briskly as he queries about my plans.

My barely awake mind struggles to stay on the conversation and I tune out, mind wandering back to his unrumpled freshness. He must've shaved this morning, his face and head is smooth, so smooth that his bald head is shiny under the glare of the harsh kitchen lights. It's a mystery my morning brain is grappling with, I only have one bathroom and it's en-suite to my bedroom.

He raises a terse brow and coughs in response to the length of time he has to wait before I reply but it's the disapproving down turn of his mouth that finally drags me back to the moment, away from the secret grooming habits of close personal security.

I flush horribly, cursing the slow start of my head. "Uhm, no. Chris will be spending the morning with my next door neighbour, Jo-Anne and her son Joshua; they play together all the time." For some reason I feel the need to vet them but before I can, Collins interrupts me.

"That is Mrs Jo-Anne Sharp?" He flicks through what looks like a list on his clever phone. "That won't be a problem ma'am; she and her son have both been cleared by Mr Grey."

I roll my eyes, enjoying the freedom to indulge in the irritating habbit. _Oh boy, I have a prescribed list again!_ _Doesn't anything ever change?_

"Okay then." I hide behind the screen of my laptop, muttering my annoyance in a sarcastic tone that Collins pays no heed.

"Carl will be accompanying you today. I will be on duty with Chris. Please make the arrangements with Mrs Sharp. It will be better if she's briefed by you."

I nod and mumble "yes sir" to his retreating back, my mock salute insolent. Maybe compliant is going to be harder that I thought…

I wriggle in my seat getting comfortable and curl my fingers around the reassuring warmth of the steaming mug as I scan through the list of mails until I see the one I want to read first – Christian's.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Seattle visit_

_Date: 19 October 2016 01:02_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_I trust you had a good night at work and that Chris is on the mend. The arrangements for your trip on Saturday have all been made. Please ensure that Chris is fit for travel._

_I have read your manuscript and must admit that I'm pleasantly surprised by our effort. I should know by now not to underestimate you. The offers for publication are well deserved. Congratulations on an exceptional book. We will discuss your options over the course of the following days but you were right not to rush into anything. Please forward the rest of your works to me, I would like to see the extent of the collection and the way they follow onto each other._

_Until later,_

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

For some reason his sign-off, more than the fact that he likes my book, sends a sharp thrill through my sensitised system. It's not exactly his customary "laters baby" and I hope I'm not reading too much into it but it sure beats his formal tone of late. Maybe I'm wearing him down.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: Thank you_

_Date: 19 October 2016 05:57_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Dear Christian_

_Thank you for arranging our trip. Chris hasn't mentioned the dad-thing again and I'm hoping that he'll be distracted further by the prospect of seeing you soon. He's had a good night but is still sleeping. I will let you know how he's doing this morning. Chris has a follow-up appointment with Dr Shawn in a few days' time but we will still be with you. We might need to find someone else for him to see when we're there._

_Thank you for taking the time to read my manuscript. It's a very private and deeply personal thing. Initially I was very hesitant to send it into the world and lay it bare to the close scrutiny that comes with publishing it. I'm feeling a bit more confident about it now and it helps when other people say they enjoy it._

_I look forward to seeing you soon._

_Anastasia Steele_

As I sign off apprehension and excitement fuse into a heady cocktail of fizzing emotion making my intellect see-saw between the different possible outcomes of the next few days. My heart is hoping for one and my mind is rationally trying to steer my thoughts with a heavy dose of realism. I've never been overly bothered about what the future holds but I find myself desperate for a glimpse of what's to come.

Chris' appearance interrupts my reverie and I'm relieved that there's a rosy glow to his cheeks, a healthy glint in his brighter eyes.

"Mommy, I want pancakes for breakfast." He hugs me around my waist as I sit, resting his head on my lap.

I laugh and tickle him under his arms, "hello to you too buddy! I'm glad that you're feeling better."

He squirms to get away from my tormenting fingers but I just tickle harder. The sound of his happy giggle bringing a blissful contentment to my fretting mother's-heart.

"No, mommy, stop! Stop mommy!" He snorts through his giggle fit, when I finally relent I crush him to me, holding him and wishing that there was some way I could show him just how much I love him.

After our slightly naughty breakfast of pancakes and fruit we both get ready. Chris can't wait to tell Joshua about his trip to the zoo and his private adventure so he's done way before I am. He runs around impatiently and nags me to hurry up: "are you ready yet? You're taking too long mommy!"

Jo-Anne's eyes widen in surprise when she opens the door to find me plus burly security guard waiting. Chris mumbles a brief hello then dashes straight into the apartment to find Joshua, moments later we hear their little-boy chatter.

"Hi Jo!" I say, genuinely delighted to see her as we hug, "thank you so much for watching him today."

"No problem, anytime," she says mildly, plainly distracted by Collins' presence as she gapes at him curiously.

"Uhm… This is Collins, he's our uh… security guy." I stretch my eyes, making them wide and tilt my head slightly in the direction of her kitchen, trying to convey that we need to talk alone.

Thankfully she gets my subtle message. "Hello Collins, please come in, have a seat." She indicates to the lounge then grabs me by the upper arm, dragging me into the kitchen with an interested hurry.

"What the hell Ana? Security? What's going on? Are you okay?" Her whispered questions all spill out at once while she grips me by the shoulders, not even aware that she's shaking me.

I raise both hands, open palms to show her to calm down but she quirks a questioning brow at me, too eager for answers to settle down.

"Please don't be concerned, it's nothing, it's just precautionary." I try to be dismissive, reassuring.

"Precaution for what?" She squeaks still distressed and I resign myself to spilling some beans, she's clearly on high alert.

I fill her in on Christian's reappearance in our lives and his safety concerns, heavily editing around the facts that will only upset her more. My words are met with her stunned silence as she tries valiantly to take in all this new information about us.

I comfort her further, willing her to relax, "he won't be in the way, I know it's weird but please don't let it bother you."

"Okay," she says unconvincingly. "Why didn't you tell me before?" There's no missing the wounded note in her lilt.

That's so hard to answer. _Because I couldn't bear to think of him, because I still love him, because I lied about why I left, because I didn't want him to find out that he had a son, because I was so scared? _I don't have the time to go through all of that with her right now, not to mention the fact that there's a lot I'm simply not allowed to talk about.

_Because you're an idiot?_ My inner goddess isn't usually that mean; I give her a berating scowl.

Jo is quick to catch the bewilderment clouding my features and she backs right down, "it's okay; you don't have to tell me."

"It's a long story, I'll tell you someday." I take her hands giving them a grateful squeeze. "We'll need lots of wine." I joke to lighten the mood and to sweep away the last of her nervous reservations.

"Right then, that's cool, Collins will be watching us today." She nods her head as if to convince herself, still not quite believing that she has a beefy guard for the day.

I'm so relieved; she's a good friend, one of the very few I have. "Thank you Jo, I mean it." She grasps my sincerity and pulls me into another hug, rubbing a motherly hand over my back.

"You're sure you're fine?" She whispers next to my ear.

"I am, and hopefully soon, more than fine." I return her embrace, grateful for her trust and help.

After giving Chris and Josh a cuddle I start my day. Carl drives me to the doctor and I'm immeasurably relieved when he opts to wait in the car for my return. I flick through a woman's magazine, skimming a very explicit but enlightening article about improving your oral arts in the bedroom to kill time.

Looking at the glossy ads in the mag it reminds me of the paparazzi shots of Christian and me in Miami. For the first time it crosses my mind that maybe, in the light of that; Christian isn't just being paranoid with the tight security he's allocated to us.

If the world thinks that we're reuniting then that certainly puts Chris and me at risk. I've seen firsthand the people out there who'd like to hurt him for whatever reason. I think back to when he realised that Charlie Tango was sabotaged and on our honeymoon; the arson at Grey House – attempted revenge from that crazed maniac Jack Hyde. _Yes, by association our risk has undoubtedly increased_. I shudder at the thought, suddenly grateful that the preposterous article never mentioned Chris. I must remember to ask Christian whatever happened to that slime ball.

My inner goddess and subconscious are both staring at me, clearly willing me to come to some sort of illusive conclusion that they've already managed to draw. _What?_ I look at them, shrugging my shoulders, still baffled.

After a breath realisation hits me like a bolt of lightning: Christian's actions show that he cares! Sometimes it's so clear but other times, I can only see his controlled detachment but it's more often than not one and the same thing. I must learn to look at his actions through his intentions, not with the glasses of annoyance I've gotten used to employing. My inner girls are congratulating each other, taking the credit for opening my blinded eyes.

The revelation reminds me that I promised Christian an update on Chris. I tap out a quick text, feeling guilty for forgetting.

***Just to let you know that our little man is better today and definitely on the mend***

My turn arrives to see the doctor and – deep joy – she offers me the perfect contraceptive method. It's instant and she can insert it today, here in her rooms and, best of all, I don't have to remember to do or take anything! It's an intra-uterine device or IUD as she calls it. The insertion part is extremely uncomfortable and I'm thankful that it's over with so quickly.

After the procedure I make my way to reception to pay. I hand over my bank card and try to ignore the nagging worry about the interest this current overdraft this will bare while the efficient receptionist taps away at her keyboard to finalise my invoice – blissfully unaware of my inner financial turmoil.

Her heavily kohl-lined eyes, a little bored meet mine, "nothing due today." She hands me back my card with a mechanical smile then drops her eyes to her keyboard, effectively letting me know that I'm dismissed.

"Um, I'm sorry…, excuse me, I don't understand?" _That can't be right!_

She looks up with barley veiled annoyance for being interrupted, "you don't need to make a payment; your health insurance covered the full amount." She talks slowly, measured - like I'm an encumbered invalid.

"But I don't have health insurance," I mutter turning the card over in my hands as if it holds the answer; my brow is creased in confusion.

Her fingers fly deftly over the keys as she confirms my details: "Ms Anastasia Steele, 438 Jasmine Place?"

"Yes, that's right," I agree, my pulse edging up as a single possibility flits through my consciousness.

"Well then, you have the platinum cover. It covers, well – everything." I've got her full attention now, she's looking at me like I've two heads, probably thinking how I could possibly forget that I have premium health insurance.

"Thanks," I mumble and turn on my heel stunned, my suspicion confirmed – Christian! Does that man have no boundaries? I recall him mentioning health cover in one of his e-mails but this? I shake my head; you'd think that by now I would've learnt that Mr Control Freak never does anything in half measures.

Well, if that's the way it is and I was going to spend the money anyway, I might as well make good use of it and buy myself something slinky for the Seattle trip. Holding on to that thought I find the nearest ATM to draw some newly liberated funds.

But another shock awaits me, some sort of bank error where the system must've added a few zeros by mistake. I'm squinting and blinking at my ATM receipt because I don't trust my eyes this very moment. I push into the bank and join the line, all the while staring at the little piece of paper in my hand as the hope of a bank error fades faster by the passing minute.

I hand my bank card to the teller and ask her to check for an error on my account. I watch her click her computer mouse, navigating the bank's software, "no, no unusual activity as far as I can see. It all looks in order." She flashes me a cool, professional smile.

"But there must be," I stammer, "the balance should be $250.00 not $250 000.00!" My incredulous voice edging up, no longer able to stay in the reasonable range.

She turns the screen, applying a practical solution to show me the last transaction in an effort to keep me calm. She taps her long nail onto the screen, pointing out the last transaction. It's a whopping deposit, courtesy of Mr Christian Grey.

My breath catches and I guess I go pale because now she looks worried. "Ms Steele, are you okay? Can I get you a glass of water?"

"No, I mean yes. I'm fine. I don't need water. I just didn't expect ….." I shake my head and blush bright red. Her how-can-you-not-know-that-someone-paid-you-a-quarter-of-a-million-dollars look does nothing to ease my embarrassment. I stuff my wallet back into my bag, fleeing the bank in a rush to draw a steadying breath outside.

When Christian said that he would be paying me a lump sum to compensate for the years he missed as Chris' father I was expecting maybe five or six thousand dollars. This, this is way too much. Fifty shades and then some! I don't know why I'm so annoyed, maybe because he never tells or asks me – always straying so far from what I deem reasonable. My head is reeling, all desire to shop drains away, my mind fuzzy with the strain of dealing with his relentless overbearingness.

I head home feeling utterly despondent, _when will he learn?_ For that matter, I can ask myself the same question - _when will I learn? _But the issue that occupies my mind the most is how to decide what to accept and what to fight, how do I decide when it's appropriate and when not? I'm having serious doubts about my ability to reconcile our views on the acceptability of his largesse.

I swing by Jo-Anne's to collect Chris where he's quick to argue about leaving his favourite friend but it's clear to me that he's exhausted, not yet well enough to spend a whole day playing, I know that a rest would do him good. After a lot of cajoling he reluctantly follows me home, grumpy.

Because I'm feeling so low and overwhelmed I cuddle with him on his bed, drawing comfort from his innocence and uncomplicated love as we read his favourite story, mostly for my sake as he falls asleep almost right away.

I lay with him for a while to watch him sleep, just being close to him grounds me again. Once I have my fill of my baby boy fix, I tip-toe out and close his door. Maybe I should see if I can get some work done.

I don't feel like working on "the contract" at the moment so I start to go through the agreement that Julie Logan left with me.

Chris gets up about an hour later and he settles himself in the lounge to play with his new toys. I make us some lunch and then bury myself in the depths of the complicated contract.

Eventually my numb backside forces me up for a long stretch. Not feeling like working anymore I find small, inconsequential things to occupy my time, pottering about aimlessly to avoid the thick ream taunting me with legal terms I don't understand.

I'm delighted when I notice my house plants drooping; watering them is the ideal excuse to avoid my looming task. I even go as far as shaking some plant food into their pots to extend my stalling tactics as I wallow in blind denial about my lack of enthusiasm for the agreement. The last plant adorns an occasional table right next to my front door. I tend it carefully, deeply aware that I'm almost out of excuses. I wipe the glossy green leaves when my doorbell jolts me out of my lost thoughts, chiming loudly right next to my ear.

Because I'm right there and without giving protocol or Collins a second thought, I open the door only to find myself short of breath and staring.

His right arm is above his head and bent at the elbow, resting against the door pane. In his hand is a pair of aviator sunglasses, dangling casually. His dark jeans a relaxed fit, but still moulded to him to perfectly, showing off his muscular physique. His grey, slightly wrinkled polo shirt has green trim around the collar that picks out the colour of his smiling, smouldering eyes. The waves in his dirty blond hair are expertly tousled, giving the impression that he just rolled out of bed.

He winks at me, beaming that lopsided smile that lights his emerald eyes with a knowing gleam, "hello gorgeous."

_Oh my!_ What is hot Dr Shawn doing here…..


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you so much for all your comments. I appreciate your encouragement. Please, please keep up the reviews!**

Chapter 11

My brain has misfired its message to my mouth leaving me to gape mindlessly at him, unbecomingly mimicking a glassy-eyed fish out of water. It's only when Collins skid to my side in an annoyed huff that my faculties rearrange themselves into working order and I can manage to form a sentence but Collins' angry scowl halts my words. Instead I blush – spectacularly, like fireworks exploding across my features.

"Ms Steele, I am under strict instructions not to risk your personal safely in any way and I would appreciate it if you would afford me the opportunity to do my job properly!" He's mustering every inch of his willpower not to yell at me, a manically pulsing vein has popped up on his temple and his lips are pressed together in a tight, disapproving line.

After the day I've had with Christian's overbearingness, the security measure's unreasonable invasion of my privacy and being chastened like a child in front of the hot doc, I suddenly feel very **un**reasonable and **un**compliant.

_Grrhhh!_ I grit my teeth, "May I remind you," I stab my finger into his unyielding chest, my ears still tipped with red, "that this is **my** home and considering how I feel about you presence, you should be grateful that I tolerate you being here at all!" _Ah, it feels good to let it out;_ I garner all my anger, releasing it through a glare that would shrivel even the hardiest of men.

Collins eyes nearly pop out on stalks. If I wasn't so mad it would be comical to watch as he grapples with Christian's orders and my oh-so-female outburst. "But I.. I…"

Before he can formulate his reply Dr Shawn steps in between us, taking charge with his back turned to me, using his body as a barrier between Collins and me.

_Mmmhhh, _I muse,_ looking at the bulges padding out his shirt_, _not sure who I'll back in a fight. _

"Anastasia, do you want to explain to me what's going on?" he asks, glancing at me over his substantial shoulder.

"This," I shift so I can look around his side to Collins, jabbing an irritated finger in his direction, "is our close personal protection. Compliments of Christian Grey!" In an uncharacteristically childish gesture I fold my arms across my chest barely resisting the urge to stomp my foot.

"Ah. I see." He turns his attention to Collins, holding out a friendly hand, "Dr Shawn O'Reily, paediatrician. Here to make a house call on Chris," he pauses for a beat, "also compliments of Mr Grey." There's a teasing note in his tone that I wonder if Collins is going to pick up on. Surprisingly his words prick at my self-esteem. _Of course_ _he's only here to see Chris._

Collins has the wherewithal to return the shake then slips back into his security persona. "Yes. Thank you. I am aware of who you are, you're on the list," he bristles. "I just wasn't expecting you today." His ruddy cheeks making it clear that he's not happy at being caught off guard.

"Well then, that's all sorted." With Collins dismissed Dr Shawn rubs his hands together - satisfied then turns to me, "How is the patient?" His smiling green eyes are twinkling with mischief that sprouts a seed of suspicion in my mind.

Chris chooses that moment to barge in, curious to investigate the source of the commotion. He grins at Dr Shawn and they do a complicated handshake that leaves them both giggling. _When did he teach Chris to do that?_

Dr Shawn sees my frown, "It's a Bulldogs thing," he explains shrugging his bulky shoulders and treating me to another lopsided smile.

_Oh boy, he looks good enough to eat._

I follow them into the lounge where Chris has already monopolised him, no doubt to share some more boy stuff.

When I offer them something to drink I get a distracted _yes_, their heads bent over something far more riveting than refreshments.

I pour some homemade lemonade into tall glasses and take the extra time to garnish it with fresh mint sprigs. Alone in my kitchen I have a moment to reflect and I realise that I'm more than a little anxious, I'm counting the seconds to the inevitable irate call from Christian.

_Crap, damn!_ Why did I think I could do this accommodating, compliant thing?

_Guilt!_ Is the simultaneous, sing-song replies I get from my head.

Dr Shawn takes a long pull of the refreshing drink and regards me intently. The emerald pools of his eyes feel like they see far more than I'm willing to share.

The gentle Irish lilt he speaks with has a calming effect on me in spite of the possible risk the owner represents. "Anastasia, I want to apologize for yesterday; I realize I may have come on a little strong." The self-depreciating curve on his mouth is both surprising and adorable but I play it cool, careful to keep my expression neutral.

My composure is obviously not what he expected making his smile turn wry, "I've come with a peace offering - to make it up to you." I feel the full weight of his penetrating gaze resting on me as he tilts his head, watching my reaction.

"Oh." I flush, my equanimity suddenly gone, "No need, nothing to apologise for." I bat playfully at him and shake my head. "You don't have to..."

"I want to," he interrupts, "it'll make me feel better. Please, don't make me beg." Seeing that I'm about to cave he turns on the full puppy-dog charm.

Again I get the sensation that his intentions are anything but pure, he literally oozes sex appeal – even in apology but he does seem sincere.

From his shirt pocket he produces three tickets of some sort. "These are Bulldogs tickets! They're for this afternoon's game, right here in Savannah."

_Make it up to me? Ha!_ He looks smug, like he knows something I don't, like he's got something up his sleeve. I put my hands on my hips narrowing my eyes at him as I try to make my distrust clear.

I shake my head, opening my mouth to voice my protest but before I can say a single thing, Chris has the tickets in his hand, whooping and jumping around like a demented monkey. "That's so cool, yippee! Mommy, my first time at a real game! I must get my cap!"

He races from the room not giving me even half a second to object, then suddenly the doctor's game is clear as day. My little boy is beside himself with excitement. What type of mother would I be if I deny him this rare treat? Dr Shawn used Chris to his full advantage - _bastard!_ He's put me in an impossible situation. How can I say _no_ and break his little-boy heart? The doc planned this, knowing what Chris' reaction will be and leaving me with only one option – to go along!

"That's really not fair you know - using him like that." Irritation is simmering just below the surface of my poise, ready to bubble forth at the slightest provocation.

His eyes crinkle along with his blossoming, full-blown grin, proving that he's gotten precisely what he wanted. "What do you mean Anastasia? Can't I do something nice for my favourite patient?" His cocked head and quirked brow coming into play to support his innocent claim.

_Gah! Favourite patient my ass!_ I'm not convinced but I'm not brave enough to voice my thoughts. What happened between Christian and me has taught me that I might not be the best judge of other people's feelings; I'd be mortified if I got it wrong.

My inner goddess is batting her lashes at him, pleased with his attention regardless. I on the other hand, don't trust him one bit.

After some serious negotiations with Collins, we set off on our unplanned outing with Collins and Carl shadowing us, Dr Shawn managing to pull two more tickets from his proverbial hat for them.

At the stadium we file out of the Doc's silver Tahoe SUV, the two man security team flanking us. Never one to enjoy the lime light, their constant presence makes me feel conspicuous and I blush furiously every time someone gawks at us.

Chris is completely at ease, chatting non-stop and I must admit that the Doc seems genuinely interested in him, the conversation flowing freely and happily between them. Chris has had very little opportunities for male bonding with Ray taking him fishing and Bob ensuring his love for football but generally, he's not had a lot of male figures to identify with.

_Only your own fault! _My subconscious' biting words makes me flinch.

We settle into what looks like good seats to me, all the while my boy is radiating excitement. I can't help worrying that he's not well enough to be here, "Are you sure it's a good idea to be out like this, with his sore throat?"

"Aaaahhhh mooooom!" Chris' annoyed whine at my overprotectiveness has Dr Shawn laughing.

"Doctor's orders!" grinning he winks at me and playfully pulls Chris' Bulldogs cap down, over his eyes.

It's hard not to pick-up on the flirtatious vibes from him, his whole demeanour drips with intimacy. It's evident in the frisky winks but more so in the hungry glint that he doesn't even try to hide. It's a look I know well, of all his kinky fuckery, that look was by far the most erotic thing Christian ever did to me, the thing that called to the secret part of my soul. Seeing it in another man's eyes doesn't quite feel like it fits.

I'm relieved that the security detail is out of sight. Even though football isn't really my thing, being here, in the stadium and watching it live with the roar and enthusiasm of the crowd is surprisingly exhilarating. I'm drawn to my little boy as I watch him – fascinated. He's in his element cheering and boo-ing along with the rest of the Bulldog supporters and despite myself I begin to relax.

It doesn't really matter why I'm here, I reason. It's great to see him enjoy himself and I suddenly feel grateful to Dr Shawn. Moments like these are gifts to little boys, memories that they can treasure forever.

After peanuts, hotdogs and lukewarm sodas my new-found football appreciation is interrupted by Collins who's materialised by my side. He places a large paw on my shoulder, "Ms Steele, I apologize for the interruption but we have to leave - immediately!"

I look up into his face, ready to tell him to go jump but something in his manner makes me stop. He's worried – really worried. "What's the problem Collins?"

"I can't say Ms Steele, I know what I'm asking but we have to go. Now!"

His grim expression speaks volumes, it's clear that he's not to be argued with. The game is in the last quarter so at least Chris got to watch most of it. I nod at Collins and lean over to Dr Shawn. "Something's up, we have to go."

"The game is almost done, just ten more minutes or so." He's distracted, only half listening, his eyes glued still on the field below.

I shake my head, "No, now". My tone gets his attention and as he turns, he clocks Collins by my side.

"Okay," he looks at me, uncertain. This security thing is obviously new to him and I guess he's not entirely sure of the level of the perceived threat.

He whispers something into Chris' ear and I'm relieved to see them stand up. Wow, I wonder what he said to Chris. No tears, no whining?

We shuffle through the narrow space in front of the seats and follow Collins to the exit. Carl brings up the rear and I can see that they're both on high alert. Something must've happened.

As we walk Dr Shawn curls his fingers around the top of my arm, "What's going on?"

"I don't know but I trust Collins to make a call like this." Christian and Taylor are nothing if not fastidious in choosing well-trained men.

Because everyone's still seated we quickly make it to the SUV and head home. I can sense the tension filling the small space but I know better than to ask. I'll have to get the news from Christian himself – that's if he'll tell me.

That reminds me that the irate call I was expecting from him never came; in fact I haven't heard anything from him at all, not since this morning. I check my phone for messages and e-mails, just to be sure, but there's nothing new. Maybe Collins has more empathy than his surly demeanour suggests and he didn't tell Christian about my security faux pas. _Wouldn't that make for a pleasant change?_ I think sarcastically.

When we get home Collins leaves Carl to watch us while he does a sweep of my apartment. "Why is he going to sweep our house mommy?" Chris' innocent blue eyes look into mine, oblivious to any danger. "Maybe I don't want to be a policeman if I have to clean houses." He shakes his head in disgust.

Dr Shawn and I share a smile, kids are so literal, it's adorable. "No honey, it's not that kind of sweeping. He'll just go through the house to see that it's all safe."

"Ah, like under the bed and inside the closet?" Understanding sparks in his eyes.

"That's right buddy, just like we do when we check that we don't have any hiding monsters before bedtime." It's surreal discussing this with him, things about the world that he's way too young to deal with and I resent exposing him to it. I pull him to me and wrap my arms around him. As much as I hate the security, if anything ever happened to Chris…. Christian may be overzealous but his instincts are usually spot-on. I just sometimes forget how much baggage comes along with him.

Once we get the all clear I allow the knot in my stomach to untie. Dr Shawn sees us in while he and Chris review the highlights of the game. Their easy banter supports my sense that this "father-son" interaction is what he craves – what he needs in his life. Dr Shawn's intentions may not be entirely honourable but he's given Chris that, even if it's just for today.

I walk Dr Shawn to the door, "Chris won't be able to see you for his follow up appointment, we're going to Seattle on Saturday, I'm not sure how long we'll stay."

He stops and turns to me, "Going to see Christian Grey? What's the deal with you two?"

_Oh dear, what to say?_ I settle on a very short version of the truth. "He's Chris dad." I look down; I want to hide the shame that may lurk in my eyes. I lace my hands together to give myself something to stare at.

"Seattle huh? Well, that might not be a problem. I've just been invited to give a lecture there, at one of the hospitals." He tips my chin up to look into my eyes. "Interns trying to make it into paediatrics," he clarifies and shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, "I can always do the house call then." He breaks our eye contact and I get the feeling that my answer is more important to him that he's letting on.

"Uhm, let me know, I'm not sure what Christian's plans are." I don't want to commit to anything, who knows how he'll react to Dr Mc Hottie.

Dr Shawn leaves and I have to admit that he's been much more hands-off with me today even though I've caught glimpses of the smoulder under his smile and in his eyes but, for now, I choose to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Chris gets a dose of his medicine and I put him to bed. It was another big day for him and he's exhausted. Finally I have time to sit down and e-mail Christian.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: Security threat_

_Date: 19 October 2016 18:40_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Dear Christian_

_I hope you've had a good day. Thank you for arranging the health insurance however I would feel more comfortable if you took me off it. You have no obligation toward me and as always your largesse makes me feel uncomfortable. I also saw the extent of your lump sum alimony payment today and it is way more than I expected. I understand and respect your need to provide for Chris but it's all just too much._

_I also want to know what the sudden security threat is. If my son is in danger I have a right to know and I refuse to be kept in the dark. Please don't withhold information from me for any reason whatsoever; no matter how appropriate you deem it._

_On a lighter note, Chris had a good day and Dr Shawn invited us to a Bulldogs football game (Chris' favourite team) this afternoon. I was hesitant to take Chris but the doc assured me that he would be fine. It was his first time watching a live game and as you can imagine, he was over the moon._

_I have FedExed the rest of my manuscripts to you, you should receive them tomorrow._

_Good luck with your negotiations with the Koreans._

_Anastasia Steele_

I hit the send button with more force than I intend to but I feel so wound up and tense, my laptop bearing the brunt of my frustration. I hope Christian's response will be reasonable.

My ringing phone makes me jump. I clutch my palpitating heart as I answer the unknown number.

"Anastasia." He says my name in greeting and I know instantly that he's pissed off.

"Christian, hello." _Keep calm,_ I caution myself.

"I felt that your latest e-mail warranted a phone call." I hear the wary note in his voice but I'm weary too. _We've been here before._

"Firstly, as far as the health insurance is concerned, I'm sure you recall my personal desire to keep you healthy but this is not for me as much as it is for Chris. Hopefully, if you'd make the effort to think about it for just a moment, you would see that a healthy mother is the best thing for any child. Surely you can put Chris' needs above your own?"

_Gulp!_ I go pale. Put like that, I sound so selfish.

He continues, arguing his points systematically, "Secondly, you should have a clear idea about my recourses by now and if you look at the alimony payment as a percentage value of my income, it's a laughable amount."

I'm sufficiently cut down to size to feel small. _Oh!_ "I see your point." I mumble feebly. "I'm sorry… I didn't see it that way." I stare down at my fiddling hands, the hot, embarrassed tears rolling quietly down my flaming cheeks.

"Ana." I hear him sigh. "What are we going to do with you?" His tone is at once exasperated and affectionate and the floodgates open as silent tears turn into full blown sobs. I despise myself for breaking down and crying. I bite my lip to try and stem the tide.

"Ana, I don't want to upset you. I thought that we were on the same page." His soft words are unexpected and they soothe my damaged soul.

"We are. I'm sorry. Whatever is best for Chris." I shake my head even though I know he can't see me and again I resolve to try to look at things from his perspective. I'm annoyed at myself, it didn't take me long to forget the commitment I made when I started on this journey.

"Okay." He thankfully drops it and takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "As far as the security threat is concerned - just for the record – I wasn't going to keep you in the dark. Taylor is still gathering the intel and so far, I don't have much to tell you but I have received a threat. There's been some vandalism at Grey House, in my office that I can't ignore. It's not the usual, low level disgruntled employee or sour competitor nonsense."

It's clear to me that if he's taking it this seriously it must be something big. "In your office?" I whisper. _Straight past all his security measures?_

"Yes, whoever did this is either stir fucking crazy or has very big balls." The bitterness is evident as he spits the words out – answering my unspoken question.

_What did they do?_

"There was a message, spray painted over one of my office walls." I picture him at his desk, steeped over the array of papers littering it, running his hands through his hair.

I sense how hard it is to share this with me; he's still hesitant, withholding the details. _Why?_ I ask myself and feel the panic slowly seep into my mind. An image of Chris and then Christian flashes through my head, the thought of either of them hurt in some way is more than I can take. I'm stunned that just the notion of it has pain lashing through me. "Please talk to me," I plead with him, mentally urging him on. I need to know what it said.

He exhales a long breath and then simply says: "You're going to pay."

_What? That's what's got him in a spin like this?_ I don't understand. Surely that can't be it. "What are you not telling me?" I hold my breath.

"Ana I…" he falters. "I don't want you to read anything into this; we don't have enough information yet."

"Tell me dammit!" I lose the frail grip on my patience as I hold the phone in a vice grip.

With a final resigned sigh he tells me. "It was all across the photos of you – the ones I bought from Jose."

Suddenly my body is playing pinball with my heart. Flicking it to my toes, then to my throat and back to my stomach. It's manic bounce mirroring my opposing emotions exactly. _Are they after him or me? He still has my photos in his office? How did they get into his office? Are they after both of us? Who can it be? Why? _

I feel the nausea roll through my gut. _Pull yourself together!_ I give myself a pep talk and wonder where my subconscious is when I need her? "I see," I breathe but really I don't - what else can I say?

"Anastasia, please don't worry. Everything will be fine; Taylor and Welch have their best men on it, working 24/7. We **will** find this person. I won't allow anything to happen to Chris or to you." As ever, he's right on the money, cutting to the heart of my greatest concern. CEO Christian is commanding and convincing and because I'm so frightened, I allow his words to comfort me.

"Okay," I exhale a measured, shaky breath.

"You understand that security will be tight?" It's like he's talking to a wounded animal, careful not to scare it off.

"Yes, I understand." I nod solemnly; my knuckles shaking with the hold I have on the phone.

"I'll take care of it Ana, trust me." His voice is filled with sincerity and I want nothing more than to believe him but not everything is under his control, no matter how much he wants it to be.

xxx

I dream of Chris and Christian, of unseeing danger and smoky green eyes wanting things that I'm not prepared to give. I wake up often, not really sleeping but hovering between sleep and wakefulness. Every sound of the night is amplified, making me start as panic's grip keeps me from rest.

When dawn finally lights my curtains I feel relieved. I can get up and find something tho occupy my restless mind, to keep it from aimlessly wondering about the possibilities of this new, dark twist in our lives.

I have a few things to take care of today. Shopping for one - because I skipped it yesterday, we still need some warm things for Seattle and I have a shift at work tonight.

In the kitchen I find Collins reading the newspaper. It's comforting to know that he's here. I should give him a break; he's only doing his job.

"Morning Collins, would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Ma'am," he nods his head in acknowledgement. "Tea if you're making, thank you."

I pull the teabags closer and flick on the kettle. "Thank you for yesterday, for letting us go and getting us back home."

"Only doing my job ma'am." He puts the paper down, regarding me with narrowed eyes, probably surprised by the change in my attitude.

"I spoke to Christian last night; I understand the situation warrants some changes, I just want to let you know that you have my full cooperation. My son's welfare is everything to me." I hand him a steaming mug and place the sugar and milk in front of him.

"That's good to know," he answers passively. Boy, he's not much of a conversationalist and I'm left feeling a little self-conscious. I rub my palms up and down, along the front of my thighs.

"Right then, if it's okay with you, I'd like to go do that shopping I was supposed to do yesterday, Jo-Anne will bring Joshua over and keep an eye on the boys and tonight I have a shift at the restaurant. My mom will be in to look after Chris." Even to my own ears I sound on edge, skittish even.

"That shouldn't be a problem provided you let Carl do his job." He looks pointedly at me, daring me to argue.

_Okay, okay, I get the message!_ _Jeez!_ "I'll be as good as gold!" I smile back sweetly.

With that; he starts to tap furiously at his phone, presumably to make all the arrangements for today. I grab my lovely new iPad and head for the lounge, somehow I feel like an intruder in my own kitchen.

When I swipe cross the mail icon I find a waiting e-mail from Christian.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: security and extended stay_

_Date: 19 October 2016 21:59_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_I want to reiterate that as long as you follow the security teams orders both you and Chris will be safe. Please trust me on this and let them do what they're trained to do. _

_As far as your visit to Seattle is concerned, I feel that given the current circumstances it would be best for you to extend your stay with me until this threat is resolved. You and Chris would be much safer with me, here at Escala, where I can keep your defiant nature in check. This would also create an ideal opportunity for us to negotiate the details of your publication deal._

_I trust that you've given the health insurance and alimony payment some thorough thought and are now willing to accept these graciously._

_Dr Shawn O'Reily has been in contact with me and is happy to make his follow-up house call in Seattle as he will be here on business himself. However I'm not sure that taking Chris to a football game is entirely appropriate, no matter how well they get along. I think you should steer him clear of blurring the lines between professionalism and friendship._

_I look forward to seeing you on Saturday and please, stay safe. _

_This is not a request._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_Defiant nature! What? Me? Never! The cheek!_

He wants us to stay with him until the threat is resolved? I can't help but hope if this is like the last time I had to go and stay with him. When Leila obtained a concealed weapons licence, he insisted I come to stay with him so that he could 'keep me safe' and then, before I could say 'deranged ex-sub', I was a permanent resident at Escala.

I hate this dark cloud hanging over us but if it brings us closer together then at least it's one good thing that may come from it. Then there's Dr Shawn. I can't believe he went to Christian behind my back! What's more, Christian clearly has no idea that the doc's designs are not so much on Chris but on me. Christian may be reticent when it comes to a romantic relationship with me but his reaction to the flowers I secretly sent myself, proved that his jealousy still burns as bright as ever.

Maybe it's the stress of the situation that prompts me into some action but as I tap out my reply, I can't supress the need to speed things along between us. I'm **so** tired of unforthcoming, formal Christian.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: gracious is my middle name_

_Date: 20 October 2016 07:05_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Christian_

_I will endeavour to give the security team the space they need to perform their duties. Chris' safety is not something I wish to take for granted. Neither is yours, for that matter Mr Grey, I hope I can ask the same of you – please be careful._

_I graciously accept your offer of health insurance, back-paid alimony as well as residing with you at Escala until the situation is resolved. (See, I can be amenable)_

_Case in point: I have already cleared my plans with Collins today and will be dragging Carl around with me. I hope this puts your worried mind at rest._

_I do hope you have a good day sir!_

_Anastasia Steele_

I quickly hit send before I can change my mind. My inner goddess is pleased as punch but my subconscious is gaping at me, her shocked face flushed with a blush. Quite frankly I'm a little stunned myself. _What a cheeky e-mail!_ I would love to be a fly on the wall when Christian reads it to see his reaction. I picture him spraying his morning coffee over his keyboard – _yes - that would be fantastic! _I think gleefully_._

After Chris wakes up and we have breakfast, I call Jo next door to let her know that I'm ready to head out. She's still a little freaked out about the security so I decide not to give her any details of the latest developments, it will only spook her more.

On Carl's advice we drive to a local mall. He felt it would be safer than street front stores and today I'm on my best behaviour. I hate shopping but with a few extra dollars from the generous Mr Grey, it might not be so bad.

I have list of things I need and swiftly make my way through it, ticking them off as I go along with Carl trailing dutifully behind me. As I pass the lingerie section in one of the department stores I remember the promise I made to take better care of myself, also my seduction plan suddenly seems a bit incomplete without the aid of Agent Provacateur…

I recall vividly the way his eyes would turn from grey to tropical storm, his lips would part as he drags more breath into his lungs, the way he would rub his fingertips together as his desire to touch me would overcome him. The plain carnal appreciation so evident as he pushed his erection against my lacy clad behind. His arms would come around to my nipples, already aching for his touch, caressing and teasing then yanking my bra cups down to truss up my eager breasts.

Flat palms skimming my pert nipples, making me moan and squeeze my thighs together in a bid for some satisfying friction. Lazy fingers trailing over the sensitive skin of my abdomen and finding a way into wet panties. Mmmhhhhh... Yes, I recall Mr Grey being partial to lingerie…..

"Is there anything I can help you with today ma'am?" A squeaky voice with a broad southern accent drags me rudely back to reality and I know I must've been looking at the bra in my hand like it was the last meal on earth. I feel the steal of the blush creep up from my collar.

"Uhm, no, thanks, I'm fine!" I smile brightly at the sales lady and wander to another stand to give myself a moment to get my hormones back in line. Thankfully Carl is some distance away, trying hard to look everywhere but me.

With my delicate shopping done I have just one more stop to make - the beauty salon. I choose a pampering package and go for broke with a full Brazilian wax. I leave Carl behind in the pretty, girlish waiting area with only a glossy magazine for company. He looks so out of place it makes me smile.

I haven't had a full Brazilian before and I can't help buzzing with nerves. _How bad can it be?_ All too soon I have my answer as the first strip gets ripped off. I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from screaming out in agony. I'm desperate not to yell, the last thing I want is for Carl to come charging in here, gun drawn in my defence! That image is enough to guarantee only the quietest whimpering from me for the rest of the torturous treatment.

_Holy cow that was harsh_, I think to myself as I walk around afterward. I have forgotten how sensitive you feel once it's all off, how you become hyperaware of the tiny patch of flesh between your legs. Christian sure as hell is going to have to show his appreciation!

Back home I check and re-check my e-mail. Why hasn't Christian responded to my sassy mail? _Man, I hope he's not mad at me! _With every passing hour I feel my unease build as I envision horrible conversations where he puts me back in my place.

In the early afternoon Chris and I unpack his LEGO pirate boat and begin to build it. By the time my mom arrives we're done and Chris eagerly shows her our handiwork. I feel a warm surge of love for my little boy, always so eager to share and learn and play.

When he's out of earshot I fill my mom in on the new security measures. I want her to be extra careful when she's watching Chris at night when I'm at work.

"Do you think it's wise to go to Seattle? If this incident took place over there, doesn't it make sense to stay here, away from this mad man?" Her eyes are round and serious, worried for us.

"I thought about that and you have a point but, the truth is, I feel vulnerable here. Even with Collins, I don't think my apartment is the epitome of safe." I give her a rueful smile and rub gently on her upper arm.

"You can come and stay with us!" There's a pleading edge in her voice, the one you never lose as a mother even if your kids are grown.

"No mom, I don't want you exposed to this as well, besides Bob would hate having the security around."

She nods reluctantly and she snakes an arm around my shoulder. We sit there sharing a moment, not saying anything. Mom and daughter, knowing each other so well, not needing words to express the obvious concerns in our collective, familiar hearts.

Before I leave for work I say goodbye to Chris, going down on my knees to be at his level and gently take him in my arms. I pour every ounce of love I feel for him into my hug. "I love you so much Muppet. So very much!" My chest constricts but I breathe through the threatening tears as I whisper to him. I don't want to frighten him, I'm just being silly and emotional.

My mom gazes down at us, as we lock eyes I know that she understands just how precious he is to me, just like I am to her. The comforting thought spreads through me, filling me, strengthening me. _Unconditional love, it's beautiful._

I pass Collins on my way out, for a moment I consider calling in sick. "Please look after them." I touch his arm to stress my point.

He looks down at my hand and then back up to me. "I've got it covered ma'am." He sounds so sure. It goes some way to get me out the door and off to work. I'm still reluctant to leave tonight.

All night long as I run between the kitchen and the restaurant floor I itch to call to check on their safety but I refrain and try to keep my mind on my tables. _No news is good news right?_

I'm relieved when we start stacking chairs an hour before our regular closing time; mercifully it's been a quiet night and I'm only too happy to jump in the car with Carl for the drive home.

As we pull into the parking lot I notice two police cars parked on the curb. I look around but I don't see anything out of place. Carl and I trudge up the stairs. He takes them two at a time to check every landing before I get there. When he gets to the fourth floor landing he stops dead in his tracks. His hand reflexively moves behind him as he places his hand on the butt of his sidearm.

He catches my eye, "Ms Steele, there seems to be a situation, please try to stay calm. The police are here." His voice is cool and composed but he's ready to react to any situation, his body poised for action.

I feel my heart start a frantic pound, instantly by palms are coated with sweat. I step onto the landing only to see two police officers standing outside my front door with Collins and my mom. My mom looks distraught and Collins is deep in conversation with the officers. All breath disappears from my lungs and a surge of adrenaline spikes through my body. I start running to them, hearing my own strangled voice shouting out to them as my mind leaps to a thousand conclusions: "Noooo! Chris! Where is my boy?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much for your support and reviews. It keeps me going, especially during the long, late nights of writing. Please continue passing on your comments! Laters baby…. ;)**

Chapter 12

Everything is happening in slow motion. As one; four heads turn to look at me. My mom is the first to move. She gathers me in her arms as I crash into her, desperate for information. I hear her soothing words but my mind is cocooned in a thick fog, not letting her words in, gripped by a fear that is unwilling to let me hope…

"He's fine Ana, he's sleeping." She's pushed me back a little, away from her, holding onto both my upper arms, her expression beseeching me, trying to lock into my unfocussed eyes to convey the message that will put me at ease again. "Ana! Ana, he's here, he's fine!" She gives me a small shake.

Finally her words penetrate my panicked brain and I collapse, the world turning black as I finally take a breath, my body suddenly overwhelmed with a brew of oxygen and relief as I crumble to the floor.

A minute or so later I come to, just as Collins lays me on the bed with my eyes fluttering open. For a fleeting moment I wonder what he's doing in my bedroom before the memories flood back. Another jolt of adrenaline has me up in a shot, jelly limbs strong again. "I want to see my son!"

He immediately makes way, understanding my urgent need. "Just take it easy Ms Steele, you've had a bit of a shock." His calm caution does nothing to slow me down. In long strides I make it to Chris' room and burst through the door, not caring if I wake him.

His sleeping from stirs at the intrusion as I rush to him, picking him up and pressing him to me. I need to feel his warmth, to smell him, see him with my own eyes. I need to reassure myself. As relief washes away the last of the adrenaline, the shakiness returns and I melt onto the bed as cling to my son. I let go, releasing the angst in a gush of grateful tears.

"Is it morning?" He breathes groggy words into my neck.

Through a strangled grateful-sob I answer, "No baby, go back to sleep." I hug him harder.

Shortly after, I hear the tinny sound of my mobile ringing but I don't have the strength to get up. I'm thankful when I hear my mom take the call on my behalf. Only now am I beginning to wonder what happened as my brain finds itself again.

My mom walks into the room holding the phone out to me. Her expression is grim, "It's Christian." She takes Chris as I reluctantly swap him for the phone.

"Hi." My voice is still thick from my tears. I brush the wet tracks from my face with the soft pad of my hand, shuddering through my breaths.

"Thank fuck you're okay!" I hear the strain in his voice, the anguish and I wish I could cross the dividing distance between us to comfort him - and take my own from him.

"Collins just briefed me. I've been in negotiations with the Koreans till late this evening. Shit Ana, if anything happened to you… to Chris….I don't know…" I just know he's running his hands through his hair, maybe even clutching at it in frustration. "I'm just relieved he was there."

_That explains why I haven't heard from him all day but I can't think about that now._

"What happened? I just got home from work, I saw…" I shiver again as I recall my crippling panic. "I saw my mom and Collins outside with the cops and I thought… I thought…." I make a start on fresh tears, unable to express the dark thing that crossed my mind.

"Hush baby, he's fine, you're fine, ssshhhh. You're both fine." He always has this remarkable instinct to say what I needed to hear in any crisis, to read me and selflessly provide solace regardless of his own fears.

I drag a precious, steadying breath into my chest and focus to find my centre as his words and voice reverberate through me, bringing me back to myself - and in that moment - it strikes me again how he's the half that makes me whole.

"What happened?" Without the heaving of my recent tears I sound more together.

I hear him draw his own breath as he steels himself for disclosure. "There was an attempt to break into your apartment." I gasp as my hand flies up to the V at the base of my neck.

"Collins caught it on the infrared CCTV. He followed protocol, ensured that your mom and Chris were out of the way. He waited in your bedroom to apprehend the intruder but before he made it through the window, the intruder was spotted by your uhm.." he clears his throat, looking for the words, "colourful neighbour - Miss Dee - who gave chase, scaring him off."

_At my home, in my bedroom, my son and mother inside! Shit!_

"You say he? The intruder was a man? Did Collins get a good look at him?" The frantic questions clawing at my reasoning spill out, all at once.

"Collins think that the build was undoubtedly that of a man's, he was dressed in black and wearing a balaclava. If only Collins had the opportunity to apprehend him," the note of regret in his tone is unmistakable, "we could have identified him and figured out if there was a link…" he stops himself but I know what he wanted to say.

"If there was a link between this and what happened in your office?" I finish the sentence for him, refusing to be coddled and sheltered from the truth. I may feel brave but my voice has obtained that hushed quality of one in utter shock.

_Shit! _

"Yes." In that one word I glimpse his regret, his frustration and his fear for us. His vulnerability at odds with his ever-present commanding manner.

A startling thought, clear as day blazes enlightenment into my mind. I realize that this is it - the defining moment. I can put my recent growth and insight to good use to break the destructive pattern of our past or I can choose to slip comfortably back into the fear and self-doubt routine that my poor self-esteem is so keen to hold onto. The same one that's always told me that I wasn't good enough, strong enough and the very same one that I'm now convinced Christian's subconscious is sensing in me - pushing away instead of drawing closer.

The change I feel as my perspective shifts into a new shape is almost physical, like the proverbial Phoenix rising from the ashes I feel myself - a new self - rise and form. Incongruent becoming congruent, heart and mind finally as one. My subconscious and inner goddess is staring wide eyed at our new creation as a calmness envelops us like a comforting blanket. I put myself aside as I turn away from my usual source of decisions – the pit of regret and guilt and doubt and make one based solely on what's best for Chris and Christian at this point in time. Right here, right now.

My head shifts into problem solving gear and Ana 2.0 takes over. "When where you planning on sending the jet to Georgia?" My question rings out, clear and in control.

He only takes a second to catch up to the change of pace, "It's already there, Ross arrived there late this afternoon for a meeting tomorrow."

"Can we bring our departure date forward?" I have no idea of Christian's reach in these matters but I'm sure that he'll find a way.

"Hold on Ana." I make out parts of the conversation as he conveys the changes to Taylor - I presume - before he's back with me, "How much time do you need to get your things together?"

"Half an hour and another to get to the airport." I'm already making a metal list of what I need to pack. Making plans are good, it keeps my mind off the stomach churning reality of how violated I feel.

I hear him speak to Taylor again, barking his instructions. I check the time and calculate that our new departure time would be around 2:00am. I don't want to be here anymore - I'm impatient, my body zinging with excessive energy just to get away. My skin is crawling and I feel unseeing eyes on me even though I know I'm alone. If my subconscious had the guts to speak up right now she'd call me paranoid.

"It's sorted Ana, 2:15am, Taylor and I will meet you at Sea-Tac."

"Okay." I blow out a long, measured breath at the temporary respite the news brings. "Thank you Christian," I close my eyes and massage my temples with my forefinger and thumb.

"You're welcome; it's the least I can do, bringing this to your door." He confirms my suspicion that he has a strong sense that the two incidents are somehow connected.

"You don't know that you did." I wish I could convey my sincerity face-to-face.

He snorts in response, an ugly sound echoing of his inability to believe in something good about himself but he clearly doesn't want to discuss so he deftly diverts me back to the task at hand. "You better go."

"I should," I agree in a whisper but we both stay on the line, hoping to draw just that last little bit of extra time from each other.

Collins steps into the room and taps his watch at me, it's obvious he already knows about the change in plans. "Ms Steele, if you need to pack, now is the time." The moment with Christian splinters into nothing. leaving me hollow and yearning.

"We'll see you in Seattle." I clear my throat to hide the hoarseness of my brimming tears.

"I'll be waiting." I end the call trying not to dwell on the loaded sentiment of his parting words, I'll have plenty of time on the plane to overanalyse it to death.

The next twenty minutes passes in a flurry as I throw things into our luggage and dash through the shower.

My mom hangs around until the very last minute before she engulfs Chris and me in a hug. It chases the murky shadows in my mind right to the very edges of my consciousness. "I love you so much Ana, stay safe and please, please settle things with Christian." She kisses Chris and then turns abruptly to slip into the SUV next to Carl. I know she's putting up a brave face, keeping her worried tears to herself.

Collins floors the powerful vehicle and we make the airport with time to spare. When we board the plane I get a desperate urge to talk to my dad. I've been avoiding calling him because I know I'll have to fess up to what I did and tell him that Christian is back in our lives. In spite of the confession I'll have to make, his calm strength is what I crave right now and Ana 2.0 is braver than me.

The three hour time difference means that it will be just before 11:00pm in Montesano. I feel certain that on a Friday night, he'll be up, watching some game.

I settle Chris' sleeping form into the jet's leather recliner and make my call before we take off. The lights in the cabin are mostly off as I look out of the window at the twinkling lights of Savannah. Somewhere out there is someone who wants to harm me - or us. Collins is tight lipped about what happened but he did say that the intruder's behaviour smacked of premeditation. That it wasn't some random crime of opportunity. My brain is flitting about these puzzling pieces as I wait for Ray to answer.

"Annie, you okay?" Warmth and concern is weaved through his familiar tone as he greets me, as always coming straight to the point.

"Dad! I'm sorry it's so late; I had to hear your voice. I'm fine. We're fine." I let go of a quivering breath and lean back into my seat, bathed in the warmth of his reassuring love for me.

"What's up Annie, you know you can't pull one over your old man." He admonishes quietly, he knows me too well.

"Oh dad, I have so much to tell you but not now, not over the phone. I just wanted to let you know that Christian is back in our lives and it's a good thing and I really messed things up before but I'm going to make it right. Chris and I are on our way to Seattle, we'll be spending some time with him, sorting things out."

"Whoa Annie, just backtrack there for a minute. Christian is back in your lives? After the way he treated you?" I hear the emotion crackle in Ray's voice and I know he must be really angry if he lets it show like this.

"Oh dad," I sigh and contemplate giving him the brief version now. "Christian didn't ever treat me badly dad." I pause for a moment to let the words sink in.

Ray remains silent giving me a cue to continue, "What I told you about him not wanting the baby, it wasn't true. I was so scared - terrified even and I didn't believe that I could give him what he wanted. I didn't want him to leave me so I ran instead." The well-acquainted guilt curls around me, like smoke it weaves and flows, finding its way everywhere.

"Holy crap Annie, does he know?" Ray's utter disbelief seeps right through his tone.

"That he has a son? Yes, he knows. We sort of ran into each other and when he saw Chris…" I trail off, Ray knows how much Chris looks like his father, you'd have to be blind not put two and two together.

"Holy crap," he breathes again, Ray really is stunned. "You know Annie, when you guys wanted to get married so soon after meeting I thought you were too hasty but when I saw the way he was with you I knew that you were doing the right thing. I could never quite wrap my mind around him rejecting you and the baby. It always seemed so unlikely to me. It always bugged me that I may have made an error in judgement where he was concerned, I find myself relieved that I didn't."

"Are you mad?" My voice is small as I brace myself for his reply.

"Hell yeah! Damn straight I'm mad! What were you thinking Annie? You without a husband, Chris without a father and jeez… You and Jose?" The penny drops fast and hard as he gets the full and clear picture of my deception and stupidity. His normal calm, measured voice is much louder than usual, the force of his anger striking like a punch in the gut.

"How many people does this affect Annie, did you think about that? What did your poor mother say?..." He continues to rant into my ear for a full ten minutes. Some deep part of me is relieved that my share in this mess is acknowledged and out in the open. I want to be scolded and punished for my senselessness so I just soak it up, happy to take Ray's reprimand like a man, it's the least I deserve.

I turn when I feel a tap on my shoulder. The flight attendant mimes ending the call at me, we're obviously about to take off. Ray is still telling me how irresponsible I was and that he didn't bring me up to be so stupid when I have to interrupt him. "Listen dad, I know, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say and I promise I'll call you soon but we're about to take off, I just wanted to let you know. I'm sorry."

I hear him puff out a long breath, "Okay Annie. I'm not done and you **will **call me so we can straighten this out but let me say this before you go. Don't let it slip through your fingers, if you have a chance to fix this and find love again, don't screw it up!" His gruff rebuke reminds me that he's talking from experience, the way things ended between him and my mom still weighs on his conscience.

"I won't dad." My face is burning with shame as he grunts in reply. I hope that he senses the mountain of determination in me to set things right.

I slip into my seat and resume gazing at the Savannah night lights, my thoughts stirred up in a churning, agitating mess. Anna 2.0 has her work cut out for her. Thankfully the exhausting day takes over and drops me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I open my eyes to the stewardess' broad toothpaste smile as she gently disturbs my shoulder. "Ms Steele, we are descending in about fifteen minutes." She hands me a glass of ice cold orange juice and I gulp it down gratefully. I look to Chris' seat and find it empty. Irrational fear grips me as I jump up only to see him sitting with Collins at the front table reading. Their heads are huddled together and Chris is giggling.

_Phew!_ I need to get a better hold of my jittery emotions, the paranoia and panic still way too close to the surface.

I kiss and hug him tightly on the way to the rest room. "Thank you for babysitting Collins." It touches me that he's done this; letting me sleep and taking care of my boy.

The tips of his ears turn red and his shy eyes looks down, "No problem." I give him a the space to compose himself when I leave to freshen up. For such a big guy to have such a tiny little heart is sweet and unexpected. I can't help but warm to him another few degrees.

The fantastic thing about a private plane is that the bathroom is much bigger than a commercial jet's and I can brush my teeth, change and do my face with ease. I'm relieved to find that in spite of the previous night, I look rested. I slip on a deep red, clingy, knit wrap dress with long sleeves and red peep-toe heels that are speckled with black polka dots. I like that they add a touch of playfulness to the outfit and I love the way the stacked platform makes your ankles look dainty. I keep my make-up neutral and brush my hair in long strokes with my head bent forward. I want it to be a full, glossy mane.

I flip back my hair and apply a generous spritz of perfume. In the mirror I check my backside to see if the lacy boyleg panties don't show up under the smooth contours of the clingy dress. The matching bra creates a pleasing curve that shows a little cleavage, tantalising – I hope. I will have to wear a coat but I'll leave it open to reveal the slash of red beneath.

When I collect Chris from Collins I'm pleased when I see his eyes widen as he takes in my outfit. Hopefully it will have the same effect on Christian. I take Chris to the bathroom and give him a quick wash before I change his clothes.

It's the first time he's wearing a padded jacket and he's excited about putting the strange thing on. We don't usually have any need for warm things like this in Savannah.

"Look at my muscles mommy!" He makes strong-man arms, the padded sleeves of the jacket making him look bulky. His eyes are screwed shut as he holds his breath to flex his tiny biceps.

"Wow buddy, look at you! You look like a super hero!" I giggle, prodding his puffy, play-muscles.

"I'll protect you mommy! I'm strong!" His words punch the air out of my chest; does he know that we might be in danger? This is precisely what I wanted to protect him from.

I drop to my knees in front of him to look directly into his eyes. "Why do I need protecting?" I keep the playful note to make sure he doesn't clam up.

"'Cause you're a girl and girls aren't strong!" His answer is matter-of-fact and I don't see any reason to think that he's sensing any danger.

Comforted, I laugh and pick him up, "If I wasn't strong could I do this?" I hold his sides and fly him back to our seats. Delighted he squeals and shouts for me to go faster.

We both sit back, breathless and grinning. It makes me aware of the sharp pinch of pain that always accompany the warm rush of love I feel for him, as a mother so conscious of just how precious and fragile he is.

Collins disembarks with Chris and me following. The silver Q7 and two more black SUV's are parked a short way away. From the top of the stairs I spy a semi-circle of five men, all dressed in black and spread out in intervals, closing any possible approach to the plane and looking around in that 007 way. In the centre of the enclosed half Christian and Taylor waits, their watches trained intently on us. The light is just breaking on this early morning and the whole scene is reminiscent of a head of state arriving.

_Oh my, Fifty isn't taking any chances._ Looking at the number of men here I wonder if he's told me the whole truth about the 'situation'.

I take my first step down the stairs holding onto the rail with one hand, the other is folded over Chris' little one. Christian makes a start to us, his expression unreadable. The wind is blowing at my coat, the open sides whipping wildly behind me and revealing my dress. I should feel the bite of the icy air but my gaze is locked into Christian's and I'm only aware of our connection, surging strong and ever vibrant.

As I take the last step onto the tarmac he engulfs us both into a hug. His right arm travels up by back and gathers my hair in a ponytail at my nape to stop it from blowing around. His left circles Chris and he's pressed into Christians legs. I turn my head and lean into the embrace with my head under his chin, my cheek against his chest. My arm snakes around his back. I take my own turn to crush his firm body against mine. I close my eyes, giving myself to the heat spreading between us. He buries his nose in my hair as we stand like this – nothing touching us in this moment.

Chris gets restless and starts to break free from Christian's hold. Just before he looks down at Chris I catch the rare, raw emotion on his face, it presses the air right out of my lungs.

He hooks his hands under Chris' arms and lifts him in the air before he easily swings him onto his hip. He gently touches his fist to Chris' chin in a mock jab, "Hi buddy, how are you?"

Chris answers with a toothy grin, "Are we going sailing?"

Christian throws his head back and laughs, a beautiful sound. "Do you want to go sailing?"

_Duh!_

He shifts in Christian's arm to look at me. "Mommy can we go sailing? Can we please? You don't have to come if you're too cold."

It's my turn to smile, "That depends honey, if Christian has time and if it's safe enough." I bat the decision back to Christian, making sure he knows I'm on board with the whole security thing. His expectant eyes search Christian's and the picture of them together squeezes at my heart.

"Mmmhhh…." He tugs at his chin in pretend thoughtfulness. "I'm going to have to see what I can do." An earnest frown completes his little act for Chris and I know that even if we do nothing else, we will be going sailing.

Chris claps his hands in delight, already convinced that he won't be denied. Christian catches my eye with a raised brow, surprised and amused that his acting didn't fool this feisty toddler.

I just shrug my shoulders in response, smiling a knowing smile. Chris already has Christian - hotshot CEO - just where he wants him.

"Shall we go?" The question doesn't fit the expression on his face. He looks bemused, puzzled as he gazes at me for a fraction too long. "You seem…. Different." He's brown knits with a quizzical frown.

I just smile and nod, beginning the walk to the car. To my surprise I feel Christian's hand in the small of my back, guiding me to the waiting Q7. His touch, small as it is, ignites the fire that always licks at my belly when he is near. My body responds helplessly, by its own accord as goose bumps race across my skin, swiftly contracting my nipples in hard, sharp points.

He opens the door to put Chris down. He dives inside giggling to meet Taylor at the other passenger door, waiting to secure him in his seat restraint. I step closer to follow but before I can duck down Christian fastens his long fingers around the top of my arm and I look up, into that wilful grey gaze.

"Are you cold Anastasia?" His hushed tone is only for me to hear but I note an undercurrent of bemusement, maybe even flirtation.

_Huh?_

"Uhm, no." I expect him to let go but he doesn't so I follow the stare of his hooded eyes, looking down at myself. It only takes a second for my face to match my outfit as I realise that he's referring to my very erect nipples, poking through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Gah!" I gasp at his audacity and I take a swipe at him, trying to swat him on the arm but his lightning reflexes prevent me, he easily captures my wrist. His steely grip reminds me of the power he wields over my body. A storm has moved into the grey of his eyes and I meet his gaze head-on with my own clear blue.

Instantly I feel the slickness between my thighs as the beat of my heart accelerates, pumping my heated blood around my enamoured body. I bite my lip then slide my mouth into a full blown, no holds barred smile just to watch his pupils dilate in response.

In my head I do a little victory dance when he's the one to break our stare, a disconcerted hand slipping through his hair as he directs me into the car. "Get in."

I take my time swivelling onto the seat, with my back first before I swing my legs into the foot well, running a slow hand along my dress to smooth it over the sides of my thigh to my knee.

Christian has one bent arm on the roof of the car, the other on the top of the open door, he leans in. "I know what you're doing." I watch his Adam's apple bob down as he swallows hard.

"Just doing what you're telling me to do, I'm getting into the car." I peek up at him through my lashes, smiling sweetly. It's true though, I didn't plan this unexpected sexy moment bit but I can't say I'm sorry. My inner goddess is delighted.

His eyes widen as he takes in my answer, replaying the last three minutes in his head as he searches for a dent in my answer. Coming up short he flashes surprise, acknowledging that the slavish force we hold over each other is responsible. "Fair point, well made," he says more to himself than to me. He smiles a rueful smile shaking his head before he closes the door.

We leave the airport with the Q7 in the middle of the three car convoy. As we make the drive to Escala I begin to feel nervous. I wonder if Mrs Jones and Sawyer are still working for Christian. I dread their judgement. At least the first meeting with Taylor is done and dusted but I still have a long way to go with him before we reach a comfortable place with each other again.

The other thing that's worrying me is breaking the news to Chris about Christian being his dad, the original reason for our visit. There's so much riding on how we choose to do it and what his reaction is going to be.

Father and son's happy chatter does nothing to distract me from my growing tension. By the time we stop in the underground garage I'm beginning to doubt my decision to come to Seattle.

The elevator pings our arrival and Chris doesn't hesitate to run into the great room. Christian's anxious, long strides follow him, no doubt to make sure that he's safe. It leaves me to enter on my own.

The familiarity of the smell of the apartment brings it all home. It's comforting and jarring at once and a swell of tears constrict my burning throat. I'm grateful that I'm alone, there's no sign of staff, new or otherwise and Christian is off showing Chris the spectacular view. Through the blur of my tears I see the piano, the kitchen, the art and all the memories that these things are wed too. They crash through my mind, vying for my attention as I drowned in them.

"Anastasia?... Anastasia?..." Christian's voice cuts through my trance. He puts his curled finger under my chin, tipping my face up to his. My eyes come back into focus as he gently he wipes a tear from my check with his thumb. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry Christian. I've said it before but I'm not sure you get how I feel, how sorry I am."

His mouth presses into a hard line, "We've said all there is to say Ana, we're both sorry. We have to move on, no point in rehashing the past." His warm hands are resting softly on my shoulders and my traitorous lips part with the need to be kissed.

Chris hurls himself into my legs and I almost fall. I right myself on Christian's forearm and feel our moment slither away. "Mommy is this a castle?"

"No baby boy, it's a very big apartment, like ours only humungous and it's very high up, almost touching the clouds." I walk to the wall of glass to show him the clouds that look close enough to touch.

"Do you want to see your room?" Christian is at our side. I can see that he's nervous about getting it right with Chris.

"Yeah!" He grabs Christian's hand and drags him back the way we came, already at home. I follow them eagerly; curios to see what Christian did for Chris' room.

There are two more bedrooms along the same passage as Christian's and he leads us down that corridor, to the very last room. He opens the door and lets us step into a nautical fantasy. For once Chris is speechless, taking it all in. The room is mainly dark blue and white. Red, yellow and sliver make up the detailed accents. The bed itself is shaped in a bow of a boat and at the head is a mast that trials 2 ropes on either side, both of them threaded with small triangular flags. The room is also decorated with mock portals and anchors. The toy box is an aged pirate treasure chest and is the thing Chris makes a bee line for when his stunned feet eventually allows him to move.

I peek at Christian watching Chris and I touch his bicep to get his attention. "He loves it." I giggle. "I love it, it's beautiful, thank you."

A breathtaking smile splits his face, "Do you really?"

I nod enthusiastically, not trusting myself to speak. His thoughtfulness is evident and oh so overwhelming. That is beautiful too.

"Shall I show you yours?" He cocks his head in question, a small smile playing on his lips that send my belly butterflies into a flutter. I nod again but find myself unable to break away from his stare.

He frees my lip from my teeth's assault and sweeps a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't' do that," he mutters darkly and turns on his heel.

We leave Chris engrossed in his treasure box filled with brand new toys. After just a few short steps he stops in front of the room that's right next door to his.

_Oh boy! I might have to chain myself to this bed so I don't stray next door…. Or get him to do it, _quips my inner goddess playfully, pointing at Christian.

He pushes the door open but remains outside, allowing me to go in first. The room is in keeping with the rest of the house's style. Clean lines with crisp, pale blue linen. It's calm and I'm infinitely grateful that it isn't the sub room upstairs. A huge arrangement of fresh flowers fills the room with an intoxicating scent.

"Wow, that's lovely Christian, thank you." I walk over to the flowers to feel the delicate petals between my fingers and to smell their exquisite perfume. I bend into them, inhaling a deep lungful.

"Yes, I thought you might like them," he pauses for a beat then continues with that secret smile still in place, "who did you say sent you the flowers when we arrived back from Florida?"

"Uhm.." I hesitate, momentarily forgetting what I told him about the flowers I had sent myself. "Just a friend. From work." I say as noncommittally as I can. I turn my back to him pretending to sniff the flowers, hiding my creeping blush.

_Where is he going with this?_ The frantic beating of my heart is making the blood pound in my ears.

He steps up to my back. I feel his warm breath from behind as he places his lips next to my ear, "If you wanted flowers Anastasia, all you had to do was ask." His seductive whisper carries the wicked smile that I know is on his lips.

_Oh shit, he knows!_


	13. Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

My body stiffens in its pose, bent over the flowers with his lingering mouth still at my ear. If I can hear my hammering heart, surely he can too!

_How the hell did he…?_ But I already know - freakin' stalker!

"Uhm…I'm not sure what you mean". _Deny, deny, deny!_ My inner goddess shouts in a wild panic but already the shards of my flimsy hope are crashing down around me.

The warmth of his firm grip on my shoulders connects to my core as he turns me to face him. His smug, roguish smile slides further across his luscious mouth confirming my worst fear. A quizzical eyebrow and a tilted head is giving me a second chance to retort to the question that he clearly knows the answer too.

He wants me to say it out loud; he wants his pound of flesh.

_Urrrrg! Bastard!_

"So I sent myself some flowers." I draw myself up to my full height and square my shoulders. I still have to look up to his tall frame but I meet his gaze with my own steely stare. Nothing gets my defiance going like these moments and I hungrily embrace the anger, it will be my only salvation.

Inspiration strikes and I lunge at the chance to turn the tables, taking the focus off me. "How did you know?" I pitch a biting tone.

A weary look replaces the smug one. "I had Welch check it out; the credit card transaction was in your name". His mouth bends into a dismissive line while he shrugs his shoulders - like it's the most normal thing in the world to have the head of your security follow up on your ex's floral gifts.

_I told you so_ – it's my subconscious and I now deeply regret not listening to her. _Sometimes I'm so daft!_

"I can't believe you did that! That's such an invasion of my privacy!" _Careful now, don't push too hard!_

"Don't make out as if you're surprised." His tone is defensive and accusatory, grey slate, sparking on the verge of anger. "You know me well enough by now to know that I would investigate the fuck out of anybody who shows any interest in you. Besides, how would I know that whoever sent you flowers - if you **reeaally **got them" he gives me a pointed look and emphasises the words by stretching the syllables, "isn't some crazed stalker?"

My temper hits the roof. "So what are you going to do about the crazed stalker that sent me these flowers?" I'm alarmingly close to shouting as I fling my arm out, in the direction of the arrangement in the room, pointing aggressively.

He looks slightly taken aback by my outburst so he tries to reason with me. "I'm only looking out for you Ana." He slides a hand through his hair.

For a moment I think that this will be the end of the conversation and I begin to let my anger drain away but he surprises me and changes track again. I watch helplessly as his demeanour switches back to irate.

_Uh-oh!_

"What were you trying to prove Ana?" He's breathing faster and he's repeatedly clenching both hands, open and shut. "That you had them lining up for you, that you didn't need me?" His voice is soft, like butter, barely keeping a lid on his simmering rage.

_Oh shit!_ My heart melts and plummets into my shoes as I realise that even in this moment, his self-loathing isn't allowing him to see what's obvious. Anna 2.0 is going to make me come clean.

"I was trying to make you jealous you… you….!" I yell at him. The frustrated tears follow soon after and burn a hot path down my face as I drum my fists into his chest.

Mercurial as ever, he tricks away the rage, a wry smile tugs at his lips. "Oh baby," he sighs. One hand has captured both my wrists and he's holding them still, against him. With the other, he brushes his thumb across my cheek, wiping the tears away. "You know I don't need any help in that department, especially where you're concerned." His fingers slip into my hair, behind my ear and I lean into his open palm.

We're caught in our bubble - again, my desire blooming and binding in response to his calling, smouldering appraisal.

"You won't be all - 'take me now, take me now', when it's my turn to come clean." The whisper has turned seductive and his grey watch is sparkling with humour.

_What the hell?_

I'm so stunned by yet another opportunity - now out of reach plus his barefaced teasing that I twist my wrists free from his grasp and push him away from me.

"Come clean about what?" Exasperation and disbelief lends an edgy tone to my voice that I fail to control even though I desperately want to.

_How does he always seem so unaffected?_

His serious mask appears as the shutters lock back into place, keeping me and the world at bay. He holds up both palms in a gesture of surrender. "Come, let's have some breakfast. We can discuss it later".

I throw my hands skyward. "Of course!" My sarcastic quip earns me a chrome glare. Only he would bring up food at a time like this. How am I supposed to eat with a 'discussion' looming? I shake my head and go off in a bluster to find Chris, leaving a bewildered Christian behind.

_Him and his damned food issues!_

It takes me at least five minutes to coax Chris out of his new bedroom, the lure of food finally winning over the pull of new toys. I swing him onto my hip and I let his excited chatter calm and distract me as we walk to the kitchen.

Christian has laid out the breakfast bar with every conceivable breakfast thing that you can think of. I strain to suppress my threatening smile; it's so like that first morning at the Heathman. _Ah, happy days…_

Luckily Chris' eager face and happy, unaware babble warms the cool vibe between me and Christian and I manage to nibble on a few things without my incommodious stomach protesting too much.

Christian has selected something captivatingly lazy on the iPod and it's helping me to mould into the lighter mood. The song is a remake from an old Abba hit but this version is much slower. The female artist's breathy voice has a sleepy quality to it that makes the song sexy: "Gimme, gimme, gimme, a man after midnight…"

_Yes please!_ I agree with her and have a vision of myself with smoky eyes and red lips, clad only in black lacy hold-ups and corset while I crawl slowly up Christian's body, singing him this very song. My come-to-bed eyes making him suck in his breath as he…

"Ana?... Aaanaa?"

My vision evaporates and instead I'm watching Christian's hand wiper-blading in front of my face. There's nothing I can do to hide my mortification as the rosiness of my flush burns for him to see. I squirm in my seat knowing full well that he's watching and knowing.

I really need to get these hormones under control! Maybe I can sneak into the play room tonight and select a battery operated bed-time companion.

I clear my throat, "sorry just uhm…, thinking about something." I flick my eyes down to my plate - taking a renewed interest in my food.

Christian throws me a salacious smirk, "I bet you were."

Just once I wish my body wouldn't betray me so completely.

"Anyway, I was saying that I'd like to ask Dr Shawn to come around tomorrow rather than Sunday, it'll free up our afternoon to go sailing."

"I knew we would go!" Chris rewards Christian with a toddler smile that would melt the polar ice caps and Christian beams unashamedly back.

"If you're sure it's safe," I mutter under my breath, still annoyed at myself and him - for knowing me so intimately.

His scornful expression meets mine and I drop it, knowing that I'm confused and still spoiling for a fight. I chalk it up to a severe lack of sexual gratification – thanks to Mr Grey and his mixed messages!

"That's fine." The thought of Dr Shawn and Christian together brightens my outlook, I'm so curious to see Christian's reaction to the good doc.

Christian starts to clear the plates. "It's great that he's taken to Chris, he's exceptional in his field. Did you know that he was with Médecins Sans Frontières up until the beginning of this year? He wrote all his books while working under crude conditions in some of the world's worst third world countries - The Congo, Darfur, Haiti."

Doctors without Borders? The puzzle pieces fall into place. That's why he looks like a Neanderthal cave man in all his photos. It would also explain the ghastly glasses; I can't imagine that contact lens solution is high on your list of priorities amongst the emergencies of a field hospital.

It's very rare for Christian to sing someone's praises but I can see the he looks to him as a kindred spirit. His own philanthropy and involvement in the same famine stricken regions gives him common ground with the doc.

"No, I didn't know. That's amazing," I'm genuinely impressed, more so that Dr Shawn didn't advertise it to impress me.

"What's a third country?" Chris asks Christian as he mops the last of his pancake through the syrup pool in his plate.

Christian and I exchange amused glances and Christian proceeds to tell him in great detail what a third world country is. I have to stifle a smile because my four-year-old's eyes glaze over at the overload of information but he's thankfully too polite to interrupt. Christian will have to learn to be a bit more concise with his facts.

It doesn't take long for Christian to catch on to the fact that he's lost his audience and he turns to me. I've got my lips pressed together to stop myself from giggling out loud and it makes Christian smile back. "Too much?"

I lift my hand and make a gesture explaining tiny with my thumb and forefinger only half an inch apart, "a little bit." He's trying so hard, it's endearing.

He shakes his head, amused. "Thanks for telling me." He's leaning forward onto the counter resting on both his forearms.

I quirk up a shaped, single brow. "Sarcasm, from you? You're not setting a very good example for our s…" I stop myself just in time and I hear his anxious draw of breath. He darts worried eyes to Chris then back to me, relieved that he didn't seem to hear.

We both sag and exhale. We are going to have to tell him soon, I don't see any point in waiting. I was planning on discussing the details with Christian but really, what's there to talk about? We should just come out and say it. I have already stolen too much time from them.

Christian's features are painted with regret and excitement and longing and fear when he looks up to find my eyes and it dawns on me that he's desperate to tell him, to finally weave the ties that will bind them together as father and son. The force of my regrets shreds through the last of my reservations and I light my face with a shining smile, telling him yes.

His answering beam is grateful and breathtaking; it only serves to make my love for him burn deeper.

I slide off the breakfast bar chair and take a seat directly in front of Chris. He's secured in a high chair so we're face-to-face. Christian comes around to Chris' other side, both of us wear reassuring smiles in an unspoken effort to soften the potential blow.

I gently lace my fingers through his, acutely aware of his trusting, tiny hand in mine and my heart whispers a silent prayer: _please don't let me break his fragile spirit._

"Baby boy, I have a secret to tell you". I expect him to get excited at the mention of a secret but even at four, he senses the subtle change in the mood. Those blue eyes, so like mine, look expectantly at me, not for a moment imagining the depth of the history leading up to this moment.

Across the counter top Christian reaches over and clasps my free hand in his own. His quiet strength spurring me on as I feel the familiar skate of his thumb over my flesh.

I swallow back the cloying lump in my throat. "Remember when we got all those lovely things the other day and you thought it was from Santa?"

"Uh-hm" his baby teeth bite into his bottom lip while that little head bobs in assent, his own copper highlights a vivid reminder of his genetic bond.

"And do you remember when you asked it if was from your real daddy?"

His bright eyes grow larger, remembering and then anticipating what's to come as he nods again, this time slowly and deliberately.

"You were right buddy. Your dad sent you those presents because he loves you and he wanted you to know that he was thinking about you and that he missed you." I hear him inhale. All my focus is trained on his sweet face, my every nerve charged and braced for his reaction. The inadequacies I feel as a mother are clamping across my chest as I wrestle with just how much of this moment is of my own design - the shame bleeding like a stain through my love for him.

One more breath and one more sentence and it will all be out there, never to be taken back again. "The surprise part is that you already know him," I pause for breath and gently tickle him under his chin. I'm eager to dispel this cloak of heaviness that's settled around us. "Can you guess who it is baby boy?"

His look swings from me to Christian and back to me again. "Can I have **him**?" He rests his open hand on Christian's head, patting him and waits for my answer. The building tension scatters away into a million directions as Christian and I both snort and splutter into giggle-fits that we try to hide. His question is so genuine and so typical of guileless little children; I wonder why I was ever afraid to tell him. It's pure and candid and beautiful.

"Yes… yes you can buddy!" I cry and I laugh and as the strain ebbs away I lift him out of his chair and hug him close. Christian joins our embrace and Chris turns in my arms and throws his arms around Christian's neck. I find Christian's eyes as he kisses Chris on his head. The glimmer of his joyful tears finds even the furthest reaches of my heart. Chris rests his head on his dad's shoulder making Christian's turn back to me. Bravely, I push myself up onto my tippy-toes. I don't hesitate to kiss his full mouth with a tender, lingering kiss.

I peek at him from under my lashes. A fresh blush dusts my cheeks, accompanying my shy smile.

His penetrating gaze, enquiring and surprised draws soft frown lines on his handsome face.

"Can I call you daddy?" I untangle myself from our cuddle and Christian shifts to take Chris' full weight on his hip, our attention redirected to our son.

Chris looks like it's his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one but still slightly stunned at his sudden dream come true. Now that we're here, in this moment I don't want there to be any uncertainty and I decide to clarify. "Honey, you can call him daddy because he **is** your dad. Do you understand?" I stroke down his face with the back of my hand to make sure that he's listening closely.

His solemn nod is punctuated by the insight in his eyes. I'm so proud of my wise boy. Christian is euphoric and he rests his forehead on Chris'.

"Hello daddy," Chris' grin is delighted as he test drives the new words. Christian's reply is a hoarse whisper, emotion spilling over. "Hello son, it's good to see you". He places a hand on Chris' heart. Chris' responds by curling his fist around his father's fingers.

I watch them, huddled together in their precious moment. A swell of sentiments sweep though me but mostly I'm relieved. _That went so well._

For the next hour the two of them are so caught up in each other, laughing and bonding that they hardly notice me. The sounds of them talking and giggling together must be the most pleasing thing I've ever heard.

I take the time to call Miss Dee to thank her for scaring off our would-be intruder and I text Jo-Anne to let her know that we've left earlier than planned. I finish with texts to my mom and dad to let them know that we arrived safely – duties done.

For a while I stand and stare out of the glass wall, lost in thought, not seeing the impressive Seattle skyline in front of me.

A piercing shriek makes me turn just in time to catch Chris launching himself at me, laughing hard. "Save me mommy, save me from the tickle monster!" He's drawing me into the exciting game he's playing with Christian. I pick him up and scuttle away from Christian as he gives chase with tickle fingers at the ready.

I put the dining table between us and Christian feigns left then sprints right, easily striding around the table. "I'm going to catch you!"

Chris squeals, "nooo! Run mommy, run!" I turn to make a getaway dash but with Chris' extra weight and the high heels I'm way too slow and Christian catches us.

He tickles Chris with a hearty enthusiasm and relished glee that I've not seen from Fifty before. "No, no! Stop, no, no!" Chris' words barley makes it through his hysterical giggling. Christian and I join in and the laughter is cathartic, liberating us from the stress of the worry – for now.

We end up on the floor, breathing hard as we catch our breaths, snippets of giggles still escaping as we savour the togetherness. This is exactly what I wanted, for Christian to get a taste of family life – his own family's life.

Christian is the first to turn serious again and I instantly miss the carefree guy from a second before. Chris is sprawled in the cradle of Christian's lap; content. "Listen champ, can you give mommy and me a bit of time to talk? Do you want to go play with your new toys?"

Charged from his rest he jumps up, already making new plans with new toys as he jogs to his room. I'm grateful that he's happy to play by himself.

"Thank you Anastasia." There is a reverence in his tone that I feel uncomfortable with. Surely he knows that I owed him this.

"Christian, please. Don't." I shake my head and push myself up; this isn't a conversation I want to have again. The last thing I deserve is thanks.

In a fluid motion he stands and catches my wrist. "Don't what? Thank you for a beautiful son? Thank you for telling him who I am?"

"Don't thank me at all Christian, I screwed up so badly. I don't even expect your forgiveness; I can't handle you thanking me." I look down, silently begging his understanding.

"Are we still there?" He gives an incredulous half-laugh. "Fuck Ana, you send some mixed signals! Do you know that? That last fucking e-mail of yours nearly gave me a coronary!"

"Mixed signals? Me?" I place my palm on my chest, the customary resentment fuelling my irritation. "What about you? Jeez!" With my hands on my hips and blue eyes ice, I dare him to contradict me.

"I know," he sighs as his fight drifts away. "It's you. You drive me nuts!" It's pitched with just a sprinkling of admiration and wry amusement kisses his lips lightly.

"You see, that's exactly what I mean." I narrow my eyes at him, not quite ready to let it go. _Nuts is good right? I'm glad the e-mail rattled him, that's precisely what I wanted._

"Come, we've got some things to discuss." He leaves me hanging, choosing to steer clear of the prickly issue. I let him drag me to his study by my hand. His touch it hot and bold and I relish the intimate contact with him.

He doesn't sit behind his desk but instead, chooses a large, studded wingback chair and motions for me to take the opposite couch, just on the inside of the door. I do as I'm told and sit gracefully, crossing my legs giving him a good view of smooth, naked calves and sexy, peep-toe shoes. _I'm just going to have to play this game harder._

"Will Chris be okay on his own?" Anxious Fifty is never far behind.

"He'll be fine Christian. Though that reminds me, where is everyone? Is Mrs Jones still with you?" I ask casually, trying my best to hide my own angst. I really liked Mrs Jones and I can't but help wonder if things will be strained between us.

"Ah, uhm, yes, she is and it's Mrs Taylor now." He glances at me then away again. "I thought you would prefer to settle in without the staff around. Actually, it was her idea."

_Mmmhhh, Mrs Jones or rather Mrs Taylor suggested to Christian that he let us settle in alone this weekend?_ I can't decide if that's a good or a bad thing. Is she being insightful and considerate or just postponing the inevitable awkward first meeting?

"Wow, that's wonderful, good for them." I really am happy for them but my words lack the warmth I would normally apply to good news like that.

I can't help but enquire further, I like to know what I'm getting myself into; "and Sawyer?" I straighten the skirt of my dress; striving to appear unaffected.

"No, he's not." I wait for him to explain, frantically hoping that I wasn't the one that cost him his job. "Why are you so interested Anastasia?" Something in his tone prompts me peek up at him. The amused twitch of his mouth leaves no doubt in my scattered mind that he's toying with me; he knows exactly why I'm asking.

"Boy, you don't' play fair." I shake my head at his shameless badgering of my frazzled, guilty nerves.

"I'm sorry," he says looking anything but, his grey eyes still shining with mirth, "you can rest assured that your little escape stunt wasn't the reason. He went back to the secret service, saying something along the lines of dealing with terrorists being easier than errant wives." He laces his fingers together, utterly smug in his little joke.

_Arrogant bastard!_

"Did he now?" I arch a fine brow. "Maybe wives wouldn't be as errant if their husbands didn't keep them in gilded cages." My mouth speaks before my brain has time to edit the words and I see the colour slip from his face. Instantly regret tears a black hole through the fragile self-confidence that came with Ana 2.0.

_Oh fuck! Why does he keep pushing my buttons? Why do I keep lashing out at him?_

"Fair point, well made." His softly spoken words are awash with remorse, his eyes are sober. The bite of my retort wiping all playfulness away.

"Christian, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Contrition eclipses my hurt feelings. I yearn to swallow back my words along with my simmering frustration.

The silence weaves and spins an unbearable cocoon around us, leaving emotions too tentative to risk further damage.

His ringing desk phone breaches our pooling silence. "This won't take long but I have to take it." He doesn't wait for my reply. He rounds the corner of his desk and sits on his power seat, "Barney, what do you have for me?"

My mind drifts away from the one-sided conversation and I brood over this constant hostility between us. Clearly we have some residual anger toward each other, our desires wavering between hurting and healing and with passions that run as deep as ours, we either need to fuck or fight in order to battle it out of our systems.

I know what I'd like to do but Christian seems hell bent on clashing. I watch him talking to Barney – he's the essence of manhood – powerful and commanding. I sweep my eyes across the room and pick out all the masculine symbols that underlie who he is but I catch my breath and lose count as I turn to look at the wall behind me.

My eyes are crinkled at the corners and alight with happiness. Stray strands of hair are caught across my face, blown by the wind. I'm laughing at something very amusing and my hands are cupped together, captured on their way to cover my wide, smiling mouth. The background is hazy and in sharp contract with the focussed, black and white image of me.

_Holy, holy shit!_ One of Jose's photos – as I recall Christian's favourite – sharing his office with him every day. I remember Christian saying that my photos were still mounted in his office at Grey House when he told me about the spray painting incident but seeing it like this is still a helluva shock.

When we arrived this morning I noticed that there's been very little change in his apartment since the last time I was here but still, why would he want to look at a reminder like this? I have one photo of him, it was in my purse the day I left and I only ever allowed myself to look at it in my darkest moments, on the days when my emotions were run so ragged with longing for him, it was all I could do to keep myself sane. I couldn't do it every day. It would've killed me.

More and more I see the evidence of his brokenness and it calls to me. The contract I have hidden in the depths of my laptop, my seduction plan, his son, us being here in Seattle with him, even the possible threat looming over us – all these things I need to fashion into a weapon to break down the walls that he's built to protect himself.

Christian ends his call and his watch turns guarded as his attention finds me. "Are we fighting?"

"No Christian. I don't want to argue with you." I meet his gaze, radiating sincerity. "I think we fight because this…, this fire between us needs an outlet, when we were married we used to…." I stop short. I can see that he knows what I was going to say.

_We used to make love – angry, happy, sad, mad – we always had that._

Eternally honest his answer is rueful, "you may be onto something there." He sighs and grabs a pen off his desk to toy with. He holds it between two fingers and taps it rapidly against the jotter then flicks it away and rises to join me at the seating area once more. "I better tell you the rest of my news before you change your mind." I'm relieved to see his wit return but now I fear for mine – again.

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his spread knees. His hands are joined together and he seems contemplative. "Mom and dad are desperate to meet Chris, I was hoping we could do it tomorrow." He regards me carefully, but I sense his body's tension, braced for my reaction.

"Of course they do Christian; I would never withhold him from them." It comes as a jolt that that's exactly what I've been doing and I blush one of those fierce fires that rage across my face. Instantly the tears spill from nowhere.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" My voice is on repeat and both hands splay over my shamed face. Hacking, heaving sobs shudder thorough me and become completely uncontrollable when his arms wrap around me, pressing me into his chest.

He holds me for long moments before he speaks. "You've got to stop doing this." His hand is stroking my hair as the other holds me in place. "We were too young, we hardly knew each other, I'm not sure how we ever thought it could work."

I know he's reciting the words of others who've tried to help him deal with the grief of his loss – the loss of me. It suddenly becomes vital for me to remind him of the truth. We may have been young and we may have rushed into things but there is no doubt in my mind that we belonged together!

"You and I both know that that's not the truth." I cradle his face in both my hands, my palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. I search his eyes, waiting for him to relent. I sense the moment he wants to look away and I turn his head in anticipation, making sure that we keep our eye contact.

"Christian whatever mistakes we made there's no denying what's between us. Even the pain we're in now – after all this time - is proof of that." He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. I watch him through the veil of my quiet crying as he struggles to digest my words.

He gently places one hand over mine and wraps his grip around my fingers. He lifts it to his mouth where he tenderly kisses the back. "You're right. I still love you." The defeated whisper worries me but at the same time I literally hear the sound of an angel choir fill the room.

"I know, and I love you – I've never stopped loving you." A bewildered expression betrays how uncomfortable he is, hearing those words from me.

I change the subject to help him not to dwell too long on that bomb shell. I'm happy for him to take his time and get used to the idea again.

"So tomorrow Grace and Carrick meet Chris, it's going to be a big day. I hope they can forgive me." I let out a long, juddering breath.

"They don't blame you Anastasia." I wish I could believe him.

"So is that it? Is that your news?" My head is tilted in question.

"Uhm, no." He clears his throat and seamlessly, CEO Christian takes over.

"I want to talk about your manuscripts." His expression is that particular brand of Christian Grey impassive. I swallow against the gathering nervous flutter.

"Grey Publishing would like to take you on. I would be crazy to let you slip through my corporate fingers." He makes little air commas when he says corporate. "We are / would be prepared to sign you on for a multi book deal."

_Oh!_

He takes my stunned silence as encouragement and continues: "the public is tired of being dumbed down, the demographic that you've targeted is ready to deal with the strong, realistic emotional rawness that you portray."

He checks to make sure that I'm following and I nod, not sure what to think. "You learnt a lot more from your short time in publishing than you think. Everything about your work is highly sellable and marketable."

_It is?_ I thought he was going to help me hash out the deal, not take it over; in fact I'm sure that was what we decided on.

He detects my hesitation and pounces like the true professional he is, mercilessly using flattery and my personal self-doubt in my work's worth. "You must know how rare it is for a writer to be offered a multi book deal on their first effort and I wouldn't be offering you this if I didn't believe that it was great business".

His look is supremely confident, he's in his element. The chase of the deal brings a gleaming light to his grey eyes. "Besides, I have an Ace up my sleeve."

Again he regards me with a cool collectedness that unnerves me – _what Ace?_

"I've hired Julie Logan, she starts on Monday."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello, hello! Sorry it's a bit late but at least it's a long one ****. **

**I hope you enjoy, please be kind and leave a review!**

Chapter 14

My intake of breath slashes at the quiet confines of his office, "you didn't!" I murmur and gawp at him with round, shocked eyes. An incredulous bubble is caught in my chest, causing a tightness that I can't swallow down.

"She's a great fit for you and you liked her so…." His words fade out as he shrugs. _He's making out as if he's bought me a scarf or something!_

The gears in my head start grinding again and I'm flushed with questions, none of which I manage to articulate properly. "But I thought…, how could she…, what about her notice period?" Why I'm concerned with her notice period is beyond me but it's the best I can do in my dumbfounded daze.

Relieved that I haven't hurled something at him, he relaxes into the details that he's happy to share. "All very good questions," an up twitch at the corner of his mouth reveals his bemusement and he answers my only coherent question: "I bought out her contract with BTB." By the easy-going tone it's clear that he has no idea how far he's gone or how mad I am.

_Of course he did!_ My subconscious flings her arms up and smacks her hands on her upper thighs – _crazy, stalking, controlling – did I mention crazy - bastard?! _Her finger is jabbing quick circles at her temple showing me just how mad she thinks he is.

"Christian, I thought we agreed." It's a thinly restrained whisper; any remaining intensions to keep my temper under control are being devoured by the heat of my anger.

Head inclined, he takes a moment to search my face, weariness crossing his ashen gaze as he senses my effort to stay calm. "We did, but now that I've seen your work as a whole my judgment would be questionable if I helped you negotiate this deal with someone else."

He crosses his legs, ankle to knee, his hand makes the circuit through his dishevelled hair while the stern slant of his brow warns me off. "I have a reputation to uphold Anastasia. What would it look like if one of the country's best publishing houses hands the "next best thing" to a competitor?"

_Argh!_ When will I learn that the normal rules don't apply to Christian Grey? I hate that he inevitably sees an angle that I've missed. I get mad at some overbearing thing he did and Mr All-Seeing Master comes up with an explanation that leaves **me** in the wrong, completely distracting me from that fact that - yet again - I was not consulted in any of this! I'm reeling, feeling stupid along with a hefty dose of ire coursing through my veins and spoiling for a fight.

I bristle and dismiss my miscalculation. There is no masking the crimson rise to my face but I can draw from my irritation to push me through what I have to say. "I see, well I didn't, but now I do," I stammer feeling off-balance and suck in a steeling breath, "however, it doesn't change the fact that you always make decisions – decisions that affect me – without ever checking with me!" the volume of my voice is amped up by the forging frustration.

This was something I wanted – no, **had** to do on my own. It took so much from me to ask him for help, to admit that I was out of my depth and he simply swoops in and hijacks the entire thing! Once more making me feel more like an asset than a person.

"For fuck sake Anastasia, you like her; I like her and you're signing with Grey Publishing, what's the big deal?" he's on his feet glowering down at me, those grey eyes luminous with the intensity of his annoyance.

I push myself up, mirroring him. "You obviously think I'm a foregone conclusion, a desperate little waitress only too grateful for the crumbs off your plentiful table!" I come out, guns blazing, holding nothing back as I take a swing that I know will sting the hell out of him.

"I don't like it when you talk about yourself like that," the edge of his anger turning curious, ignoring my bait, "besides, that's not what I meant and you know it, why are you trying to hurt me?" frown lines appears on his forehead as he tries to figure me out.

"Do I? How Christian, how would I ever know anything if you **never** tell me?" I pitch a taunting tone, issuing a challenge and neatly skirt the issue about hurting him.

"Anastasia, I'm not used to justifying my actions to anybody, I've told you before. This decision seemed blindingly obvious. I won't, uhm can't -" he amends quickly as he clocks my reaction, "- let you sign with anyone else and you wanted Julie Logan so, I got her for you. There was nothing to think about, nothing to discuss." The cadence of his voice is modulated to tame my ire.

_Simple as that!_

I get his point but I'm anxiously trying to make my own. "Firstly," my hand snaps up and I extend my index finger, "it's not up to you and secondly," I add the middle finger indicating two then drop my arm, "whether there is something to discuss or not, I would still like to know!" my fists dig into the sides of my waist and I flick my hair back over my shoulders eyeing him with unconcealed irritation. "**Before** you do it!" I ad as an afterthought.

_One morning with Christian Grey and I'm exhausted, my nerves a quivering, bundled mess._

We stand facing each other, scrambling to find our counterpoise as the power struggle rages on between us. Finally he concedes; I'm rewarded with a brief nod teamed with a placating gesture. "I'll try."

"Thank you." I issue a relieved breath. "Is that it? Any more aces in that sleeve you'd like to share?" I raise a testy brow, powerless to supress the cutting sarcasm.

"For now." He holds my look of daggers and time bends into irrelevance as adrenaline ebbs and desire blooms. That familiar pull and drive of our attraction begins to build but I want none of it. I'm spent and smarting from our volatile battle. I pivot and turn to leave, disobeying my body's natural inclination to yield to the force of his will.

I hear him call after me but he has the good sense not to follow, we both need some space. I find Chris and join him on the plush carpet, still in his bedroom. He's made lots of exciting discoveries that he's eager to show off and I revel in the uncomplicated bliss of being with him - a diverting pass time guaranteed to help me avoid thinking about Christian.

Both Chris and my backs are turned to the door while we concentrate on reading the rules of a board game. I feel an awareness tickling up my spine as I become conscious of Christian's presence behind us. I expect him to join us so I don't acknowledge him right away but when he doesn't, I realise that he's just watching us. The emotion radiating off him is almost tangible and I wonder if he's simply curious or too cautious to interrupt us – not knowing his place in this picture.

So Christian won't notice I whisper in Chris' ear to turn around. He snaps his head to the door. His total enchantment already bears the evidence of his acceptance and unconditional love for his father. It brings a light to his angelic face that's answered by Christian's impossibly satisfied smile.

_My two men_, I think and sigh inwardly, our mountain of baggage pushed to the back of my mind.

In quick strides they join hands and Chris leads him back to me, his animated instructions informing Christian of the rules we've picked up so far. I love how Christian takes it in his stride – mega mogul CEO sitting on the floor, happily playing the part of devoted dad.

The rest of the day passes in a light-hearted mood. Christian and I spend it playing with Chris. It's so precious seeing them together and I'm grateful for the memories that they're finally getting a chance to make.

By dinner time our conversation turns to our plans for the weekend. "I have to go into the office tomorrow morning; I shouldn't be long and of course Collins will be here with you but you'll have to meet with Dr Shawn on your own."

"Sure, what time will he be here?" I hide the disappointment of not seeing Christian and Dr Shawn interact behind a friendly smile.

"Is Dr Shawn coming to visit us here?" a couple of minutes ago I thought Chris might fall asleep at the dinner table, exhausted from all the fun and undivided attention he got today but now his eyes are wide and awake.

"Yup, he's coming to make sure that you're good to go tomorrow!" he makes a mock jab in Chris' direction and they play-box as Chris tries to land one on his ducking dad.

"About 9:30," Christian comes around to answering me and ruffles Chris' hair. "And then, I want to introduce you to someone very special." Clear grey eyes look up to me and I nod my approval even though the thought of seeing Christian's parents has my stomach in a cloying knot.

"Aahhh, who is it?" Chris is bouncing in his seat.

I'm impressed to see that Christian has already learnt that Chris has a very active imagination so he doesn't let him guess because no grandparent – no matter how cool they might be – will come close to what he would've come up with.

"It's my mommy and daddy, your grandparents." Christian looks utterly invested in this moment and I pray that Chris doesn't disappoint him by shrugging it off like only a toddler can. I hold my breath.

"Gran and pop is coming here? Cool, can they come sailing too?" he looks to Christian and eats the last bite of his carrots-and-peas.

I giggle and interrupt, "no buddy, gran and pop is **my** mom and dad so you'll have two more now because your daddy," I rest my arm on Christian's upper arm, "also has a mommy and a daddy."

"I get **two** more? That's awesome! Will they get me Christmas presents just like gran and pop? And…, and treats for my birthday? You'll tell them when it's my birthday right?" he looks frantically to Christian and then to me.

Finally the excitement that Christian was waiting for appears, albeit for a slightly different reason and for maybe the hundredth time today, we chuckle. We laugh with happy abandon as a family - together and I savour the moment I so desperately wanted Christian to be a part of. I can only hope that he sees what I see, the belonging, the love and the joy, waking a hankering in him to be a permanent part of it.

After dinner Christian offers to bath Chris and tells me to make myself at home. I abandon the guys in the bathroom and head for the kitchen and a cup of tea. On my way I pass Christian's bedroom and I can't help recall the last time I was in there, leaving my birthday charm bracelet and everything else I owned – including my stupid, reckless heart behind.

Without thinking I walk into his private space. My feet moving by their own accord, my brain mysteriously detached. The smell is the first thing that strikes my senses like a blow. That intoxicating, haunting smell that I crave like a high from a drug. I breathe through both flared nostrils and treasure my fix, inhaling it into my lungs and into my being.

My body responds with lashings of spasms between my thighs – the evocative scent bringing memories like gifts. I lost my virginity here, met a thousand pleasures that I never dreamed existed.

As I walk I run my hand along the furniture, not seeing much but feeling everything. Every single thing hums with vibrations from the past. Sleeping in his bed, his nightmares, our passion, moving my clothes into his closet…. I find myself in front of those very closet doors giving way under my gentle push. The soft glow of the recessed lighting pings on quietly and I glide in, as if in a dream. The smell is even stronger here and I close my eyes, loosing myself in the stolen intimacy.

When I finally float back to earth and open my dreamy eyes I stare straight into a rod of hanging dresses. I close and re-open my eyes then tilt my head to see if the angle of the view changes the picture, but it makes no difference.

My hammering heart is constricting along with my airways. When my brain eventually staggers back into my skull I get a hit of familiarity. A specific hue of emerald green attracts my attention and my numb digits reach out to finger the smooth fabric.

_Oh my…._ It's the dress I wore to Christian's birthday party, when we announced our engagement. I reach for the next garment, silver satin…. Oh yes, the masked ball. My fingers run faster and faster over the visible lines of clothes – like counting bank notes - remembering each one as they go. It's all here, every single item. When I get to the end of the rail my unsteady hand opens one of the beautiful stacked drawers that hold the smaller items.

A chill makes goose bumps skate across my skin and I hear a torrent of water rushing past my ears. My silk sleepwear lay nestled like I've never left. Above that, I open the next drawer and find the lacy fronds of my underwear. The next drawer is the smallest one and even before I open it, I know what I'm going to find.

An invisible weight is crushing my chest leaving my breathing shallow as I spy well-known inches of red velvet folds. The sight of my wedding ring and then my birthday bracelet knocks the air clean out of my lungs. My legs give way as I sink into the carpet.

I just sit there, stunned and staring into space. What does this mean? The photos of me here and at Grey house, keeping all my things like this. How broken is he? He seems normal enough – for Christian - I reason with myself. Does he still see Dr Flynn? My mind is seized with panic, clogged with uncertainties.

After what feels like an eternity I drag myself up and methodically erase the evidence of my unsolicited visit. That cup of tea has now become an absolute necessity, maybe even with a dash of brandy. I wonder how forthcoming Christian will be with the new questions crowding my thoughts as I flick the kettle into service.

When Christian and I put Chris to bed my little angel turns into something resembling a small monster. He's over tired and does what little children do - fight off the sleep. He whines and cries, rubbing at his eyes, all the while demanding more stories. You'd think that if you felt that tired you'd welcome sleep! I'm fascinated observing Christian deal with him.

At first he gives in and reads two more stories as we all lay together on his boat bed like squished sardines but soon discovers that it's only making him more active. I try my best to give him some space to parent, often biting my lip to stop myself offering advice. Then, he astounds me by inventing a game as a ploy to get him to calm down and rest.

He whispers conspiratorially to Chris, "I know this game but it's very hard." He purses his lips looking thoughtful. "Do you think you can help me?"

Chris nod enthusiastically, "I can," he says, his face earnest.

"Okay buddy, you can have a go but it's a big job. We have to put off all the lights and then, we have to keep our eyes open to count all the stars in the sky. Are you ready?"

Chris nods again and Christian switches off the bedside light. Chris and I both gasp our amazement as the night light casts tiny little stars across the ceiling, moving slowly along as the bulb rotates. It casts a soft, serene glow.

Chris snuggles into us as he lies between us and we begin to count, whispering the consecutive numbers very slowly. By the time we reach ten I can see that his little eyes are fluttering with the strain of being kept open and after three more, he gives up the battle and succumbs to his dreams.

We lie there watching him in silence. My heart expands with love as it always does when I watch him sleep. I risk a peek at Christian, his expression is gentling into that deep love that binds you to your own children. I'm so thrilled for him, for getting a sense of the depth of his own paternal emotion.

When we're sure we won't wake him, we steal out the room and tip-toe down the passage. I giggle and clasp my hand over my mouth; it earns me an amused look from Fifty when he presses his finger to his lips to warn me to be quiet.

I stop at the kitchen island and Christian reaches for the fridge. "Would you like some wine Anastasia?" he asks with his back to me and I shiver at the way he says my name, my body still disquieted and hungry from my trip to his bedroom.

"Please Christian" unrelenting desire shapes my husky vocals and for a split second, I watch him stiffen in his task before the fluidity of his motion resumes.

He hands me a chilled glass of white wine and I place the rim to my lips, tipping my head back for a taste, not breaking our gaze as I breathe my reply, "thank you."

He lightly grasps my bent arm and steers me to the large u-shaped sofa in the great room. I get comfortable and admire his precise movements - that easy grace and the insanely manly way his clothes hugs his body. _Mmmmhhh._

He makes quick work of lighting the fire and selecting something on the IPod before he sits next to me, facing me with one leg tucked in under him. He lifts his glass and rests the other arm along the back of the couch.

I'm intrigued when the first strains of the song sounds like a baby's toy but that soon changes when a lone female breathlessly croons a cover of Chris Isaak's "I want you to want me". It's the same artist who had me salivating and daydreaming this morning and this song, right now - couldn't be any more appropriate.

"Who is this? It's so… tantalising." I let the lyrics wash over me and when I open my eyes they're lit from within with heated intentions.

"Don't look at me like that" he issues me a mild, growling command but his hooded slate stare is contradicting his rebuke and it only makes me look more.

"Like what?" my inner goddess purrs as my voice turns girlish and my lashes flutter seductively.

He gives me a look that says _you know what_… and replies, changing the subject: "Damhniat Doyle, I just got it. She mostly does covers but strangely original in a way."

_I know what he means, I love Chris Isaak but this version is __**smoking!**_

He turns introspective, staring into mid space; I can guess what's on his mind and Ana 2.0 is ready to reassure him. "You were wonderful with Chris today and especially tonight; you impressed me so much. You're a natural father." I hope my quiet words soothe his parental anxiety. "You're always so…. competent."

"He's great" he flashes me a boyish smile and stares into his wine again. "I didn't know what to expect, you know, telling him who I am and spending the day with him, doing all the normal things, it was…" he trails off, searching for words that I know don't exist.

I gently place my hand on his veined forearm, exposed by his rolled-up cuff. "I know, sometimes I love him so much it hurts. It's wonderful and exciting and scary as hell. You don't comprehend that kind of love until you have your own children."

"Do you think Grace and Carrick feels that way about me?" an unnamed shadow crosses his face and I wonder if he's also thinking about his birth mother.

"I don't think they do, I know they do Christian. They love you so completely, so unconditionally, I've seen it many times. I used to wish that I could show you, make you look through my eyes." Emotion wells in the back of my throat and I fight down the threatening tears.

I want to be his safe place right now, if I cry we'll lose this moment and this is **not **about me.

He nods his head slowly, his mind attempting to find a place for this new information amongst the prevailing thoughts of self-doubt.

"I can't believe how vulnerable he makes me feel. At the best of times I worry about the health and safety of the people I love but he just adds a whole new dimension to that fear." Bewilderment sharpens his features as he sips his wine mindlessly.

I know I have to help him find his balance in this issue; he can't keep Chris in a cocoon, much as he might like to. "It's the hardest thing in the world, to watch them make mistakes and get hurt and I must admit that having him has given me some insight in the way I made you feel at times." His head snaps up in surprise, catching my contrite smile.

I plough on, "you feel helpless and frustrated but the thing is - with kids - the harder you hold on, the more they pull away. You need to learn when to let go and you have to pick your fights, you can't argue about everything!" our gazes are still locked. I long to reach up and stroke his beautiful face, to touch the dusting of his stubble but I'm still cautious not to jeopardize his confiding mood.

"Is that how I made you feel? Did I hold on too hard and you pulled away?" his words are threaded with bleak unease.

"Please don't think that." I clasp his hand in both of mine and reach for every ounce of sincerity I can muster. "I may not have liked it but I did understand it, even respected it. I left for many reasons, all of which I've already shared with you but that was not one of them, please believe me." I pray that my heartfelt plea will grow into understanding in his mind.

"So, your book, or rather books," I sense his apprehension, "is **that** how you felt?"

I'm secretly thrilled that he's asked me this, I was hoping he would. My work says the things that I still can't articulate. Instead of a word in a sentence in a conversation, they are a complete picture of what I went through. Painting in great detail the deep chasm gouged into my psyche by the loss, regret, fear and even depression if I allowed myself the time to feel it.

"Yes." There's no need to cloud my answer with explaining, if he's read it, he already knows.

"We screwed up Ana. It was the same for me."

The words hang between us, thickening the mood with its searing reminders and recriminations.

We can't afford to start the blame game again so instead, I seize the opportunity to ask him about the clothes and the photos. "I went into your bedroom this evening, when you were bathing Chris. I honestly don't know how it happened, maybe returning to the scene of the crime, I don't know." I shrug, a quick glance in his direction shows me he knows what's coming. I look down again – hiding my flaming shame, "anyway I'm sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy but I saw my things in your closet and you still have my photos up, here and at work." My pulse quickens, dreading the answer but unable to live without knowing.

He doesn't make eye contact as he loses himself in the spitting flames of the hearth. "I told you long ago Anastasia that I'd take you any way I could get you and those things were the closest I could get."

_Oh!_

His unembarrassed honesty is heart wrenching. It's a cold, hard slap in the face with a swift kick in the gut. It's his version of my book. _Fuck!_

We both fall victim to the introspective atmosphere as we dwell on the dark revelations we just shared - neither of us with the capacity to make small talk.

Christian is the first to break the silence. "Will Chris be okay in his own room in a new place?" anxiety for his son is bleeding into his tone and I love that he's so thoroughly thoughtful – even though it's coloured with his overbearingness.

"I think that he's out cold and that nothing short of an elephant trumpeting through his room is going to wake him tonight." I smile and find myself relaxing as we finally edge away from the serious talk.

He chuckles his agreement, also seeming to find his centre again. "So, have you decided on signing with Grey Publishing or are you going to cost me millions in lost revenue just to prove a point?" a nervous bemusement touches his features.

I stall, stretching the moment to make him sweat. "I don't know, it depends..."

"On what pray tell?" his eyebrow lifts in query as he folds his hands together.

"On the advance of course – now that I know I'm the next big thing…." I shrug trying my best to look uninterested.

He catches onto my game, an appreciative smile kisses his full mouth, "ah, yes. There is that matter. I suppose I should prepare myself for you getting a Pit-bull agent eh?"

"Oh definitely Mr Grey, that and many more outlandish requests, you know how demanding us artists can be." I treat him to my most coquettish smile and because the nature of my "outlandish requests" run through my mind - all of them involving Christian Grey in compromising positions with moi – I flush a rosy glow.

I love the sound of his sharp inhalation and I respond helplessly, sinking my teeth into my lip.

He tenderly frees my swollen lip and brushes his thumb across my mouth. His voice turns soft, endearing even, "you better head for bed, it's been a long day." I watch him struggle with himself and it thrills me that he's finding it harder to resist me.

"You might be onto something there," I muse, "yes, bath and bed." I stand and start to the kitchen with my glass.

"Anastasia?"

I turn back, my hair flicking over one shoulder with a curl that ends on the swell of my breast. "Mmhhh?"

His hooded look is back, smouldering at me as he drinks me in. "I'm glad you're here."

The delicious bite of arousal clenches through my body and I smile, blowing him a cheeky kiss, "thank you for having us." The last thing I see as I leave is the jolt breaking through his carefully controlled watch.

In the bath I look back on the day we've had. I can't help feeling that we've cleared some hurdles. Before I turn in I check on Chris then stroll back to my bedroom. I can hear Christian start his shower and my earlier idea of getting a toy for some "stress relief" pops back into my head also; I've wanted to see the playroom ever since we arrived. Curiosity spurs me into action as I race up the stairs grabbing they key from the utility cupboard as I go.

I feel naughty and excited when I turn the key and find the light switch. The sad sight that greets me is that of a deceased estate's furniture. Everything is covered in white dust sheets that are less than white from the settled dust they bare. Another shocker. I'm not sure what I expected now that I'm confronted with the reality. How would I have felt if everything was in ship shape condition?

I carefully close and lock the door behind me, there's no way I can borrow a toy, even if there were any, I'd leave tell-tale footprints in the dust.

I slide into crisp cotton sheets and enjoy the sensation of five hundred thread count against my sensitive skin. My mind dwells over the playroom situation. I remember Christian saying that he wasn't dating but I wasn't sure what he meant. In the back of my mind I sort of expected him to have some form of sexual release though I didn't want to give it too much thought. Could he be celibate?

Both my inner goddess and subconscious snort their derision at me and I concede that it was unlikely. This is my last thought before I succumb to welcome sleep.

When the light of dawn peeks through the drawn shades I stretch and take pleasure in what I hope is a new beginning for us. For the first time since we ran into each other at the zoo I feel that we've cleared the air between us. Many more steps to go, including his family but - for now – we're in a better place.

It's nearly 8:00 so I scuttle to Chris room, worried about him waking up in a strange house on his own. I can't believe I slept this late. I don't bother with a robe to cover my satin slip, Christian will be at work.

I shiver in the cool air of the corridor and turn into Chris' doorway. I find Chris and Christian huddled together in Chris' bed. Christian is awake but Chris is still fast asleep, curled into his father's arm. By the look of his mussed-up hair I can see that he spent the night with Chris.

Too late I remember my state of undress as I watch Christian's eyes turn from relaxed to predatory at the sight of every visible curve skimmed by my clingy pyjamas. I cross my arms over my chest to hide my erect nipples and blush spectacularly.

Christian offers me a sheepish smile, the playfulness contrasts sharply with the sizzling heat from a moment before.

He carefully slides out of bed. We turn our backs to Chris, keeping to a whisper, he explains. "He woke in the night and I heard him cry on the baby monitor. I didn't want to disturb you so I came to lay down with him, I guess I fell asleep."

I smile up at him, "baby monitor? He's four; we haven't used one of those in over two years." I nudge his bicep playfully with my shoulder, delighted to tease him.

He grins as he defends his plan, "I was worried that we wouldn't hear him, you know how big this place is!"

"Mommy, why are you laughing, I'm sleeping!" Chris grumbles at me and sits up.

We each take a seat on either side of the bed and take turns to collect our morning cuddles. It's bliss.

Christian kisses Chris goodbye and leaves to get ready for a few hours at the office. "Don't forget the doctor is coming this morning," he reminds us as he strides out the door.

When we're dressed Chris grabs my hand and pulls me to the kitchen, eleven hours of sleep leaving him famished. I potter about making us breakfast and Collins pops in to greet us and run through the schedule with me.

Just as we finish brushing our teeth Collins alerts us to the good doctor's arrival.

Chris makes a bee-line for the great room and I follow - unhurried. I can already hear Chris' screeches of joy. Dr Shawn is probably swinging him around and throwing him up in the air. I smile to myself - in retrospect - maybe it's a good thing Christian isn't here to witness that.

I smile when our eyes meet and he ambles over in that casual, athletic manner of his, he curls his large hand around my upper arm and pulls me closer. He leans in to kiss me full on the mouth, his face splitting into one of his devastating smiles.

"Hello there little lady, aren't you a fine sight this good morning." His Irish twang making the words melodious.

I flush at the compliment, "uhm, thanks, hello yourself."

"Would you like something to drink?" my manners kick in.

"A cuppa English tea would make my day."

"Perfect, I'll have one too." I'm happy to share my tea habit with an appreciative audience.

"Thank you for coming by the way. Where do you want to do this? Do you need anything?" I ask as I busy myself with preparing the teapot.

"It's my pleasure Anastasia and no, right here will be fine." He swings Chris onto the kitchen counter and does his doctor thing. "All the glands feel normal, open up for me, there's a good boy." He looks in Chris' throat. "Mhh, apart from the crocodile that lives in there, I don't see anything unusual, you're all good lad."

Chris howls with laughter and argues with Dr Shawn about the crocodile. "No it's a dinosaur!"

"Dinosaurs are way too big to live in your mouth, it's definitely a crocodile!"

"Maybe it's a turtle? I think I've seen him when I brush your teeth." I suggest, joining the banter.

Dr Shawn lifts Chris off the counter and takes the tea tray to the great room where we sit down.

Chris goes in search of something he wants to show Dr Shawn.

"How are you finding Seattle?" my hands are wrapped around a steaming mug and I take a grateful sip.

"Good, big, you know - busy!" he pulls a wry face and smiles. I get the impression that sprawling cities aren't really his thing.

"Christian mentioned you worked for Doctors without Borders, it must be hard to adjust to the first world again, all the excesses and luxuries." My hand makes a vague sweeping motion.

"Aye, it's been interesting." By his tone it's clear that he'd rather be someplace else.

I nod, "so, when's your thing? Your lecture?"

"I have one every week day but they only last for about two hours so the rest of the time I spend wandering the streets of Seattle all on my own." He employs the puppy-dog look to wheedle some sympathy from me.

"Ah, I'm sure that you don't have any shortage of company if you choose to have it."

"You got me there!" we giggle at his blatant arrogance.

"I do need a favour though," he turns serious, "I'm speaking at a fund raiser for Doctors without Borders on Monday evening – black tie affair - and the lass who was going to accompany me has dropped me so, I'm in desperate need of a new companion."

"What can I do to help?" It's not like I know anyone in Seattle I can set him up with.

"Now let me see," he taps a finger on his lips making a show of thinking, "what can an eligible, attractive woman with a passionate heart, who happens to have a baby sitter on stand-by do to help me out?"

The penny drops as I realise that he's asking me. The red glow makes a mad dash for my face and I splutter into my tea. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Ah, but I will owe you one and besides, it's not a date and it's for a good cause." He turns on the full charm, floppy blond waves and dreamy green eyes rounding out the lethal combination.

"I'll see; we've got this security thing going on…" I trail off trying to think of a reason not to go.

His eyes light up as he takes my wavering as an affirmative. "That's fantastic, thank you Ana, I knew I could count on you! I'll get Neiman's to deliver something for you to wear."

"I haven't said yes!" I squeak in shock.

"Aye, but you didn't say no." He looks at me with those beautiful jade eyes from under his lashes and I feel my resistance crumble.

I give him a dubious look, "you sure it's not a date? I'll just be helping out a **friend**?"

"Absolutely!" he says with utter conviction but a naughty gleam in his smug gaze suggests otherwise.

_Mmmhh, he's up to something…_my subconscious is narrowing her eyes at him behind her winged spectacles.

"No arguing about security?" I'm still not sure.

"Me? Never, in fact I insist on it!" he deftly clears the final obstacle of my concerns.

"Okay, I'll check with Christian." I reluctantly give in with a gesture of surrender. Once more I'm rewarded with a flash of his brilliant, self-assured smile.

Chris returns with my mobile phone and climbs onto Dr Shawn's lap. "Take a photo of the crocodile, I want to see it!" he hands over the phone.

Dr Shawn takes the phone and puts it aside then stands up and in a quick, smooth motion, grabs Chris' ankles and tips him upside down shaking him gently. "We'll have to shake him out of you!"

The surprise from being turned without warning and the fun he's having is making him laugh hysterically. The lightness of the mood is irresistible and I laugh just as hard, cupping my hands over my mouth as I watch a little nervously.

Just as swiftly as he picked Chris up he turns him again then crouches to set him safely on the ground. "Did you see him rush away, he ducked under the couch!"

It leaves me with a clear view of the foyer and the unexpected, stone cold glare of Christian - watching, calculating, assessing the tableau that I assume he saw in its entirety.

_Oh boy!_


	15. Chapter 15

**TA-DAA! Lots of stuff you've been waiting for…Again I apologise for the long wait but this one took a bit of research and it's looong! Thank you for reviewing and messaging, you have no idea how much your comments mould the story. **

**Please review!**

Chapter 15

The temperature in the great room drops to arctic conditions. Christian's icy glower is soon followed by raging fury and finally replaced with his carefully schooled impassive look as the realisation of our uncommitted, undefined state strikes him. I can see Taylor over the slant of Christian's rigid shoulders, steeling himself for a situation that might get out of hand.

I know exactly what this must look like to Christian – someone else thieving his position in a family that he feels belongs to him. I also know he won't give me the benefit of the doubt where Dr Shawn is concerned, never considering that I see him as just a friend.

Adrenaline makes me jumpy and I stand too quickly, my movements unnatural – screaming my unintended guilt. "Christian, hi!" I force out a nervously pitched squeak. "Come and meet Dr O' Reily" I plaster a bright smile on my chalky face that even my rising blush can't colour.

Dr Shawn turns around to follow my surprised watch, beaming a sincere, open smile at Christian.

_Oh boy, he has no idea!_ The medieval maiden in me instantly gets an image of them duelling it out with drawn swords and my inner goddess fans herself, flushed. _Harlot!_

Christian's expression alters again, this time it's surprise as he assesses Dr Shawn's handsome, rugged face. I'm moored to the spot, fascinated by Christian's candid measure of Dr Shawn.

Chris runs to Christian and barrels into his knees, clamouring for his dad to pick him up. "Daddy, daddy, I have a crocodile! It's under the couch!"

With that uncanny way of his, Christian turns his full attention to Chris and smiles warmly, any clue to the war inside hidden deep. "You do? We'll have to hunt it down and catch it; no crocodiles in the house, they might bite you!" with that he growls and makes to bite a chunk out of Chris' belly.

Chris has another giggle fit and tries to wriggle out of Christian's arms, squirming and kicking wildly. When Christian sets him down he runs to me and hides behind me, delighting in the game and oblivious to the undercurrent in the room. It occurs to me that Christian won't do anything crazy with Chris around and I gulp a breath in relief.

Dr Shawn has made his way to Christian, extending his arm in greeting, still smiling but now with a hint of uncertainty. When Christian returns the shake, the room explodes with hard and heavy testosterone, both men drop their heads slightly, eyes locked, like two bulls ready to charge. Dr Shawn bearing the brunt of the full force Grey glare.

_Holy shit!_

They don't need to say anything - battle lines have been drawn – both of them with a clear comprehension of the parameters and the prize. There's no space for introductions and niceties here… I'm annoyed that even though this seems to be about me, I don't have any say in this outrageously ridiculous pissing contest.

"Taylor will see you out" Christian barely manages to be civil.

Dr Shawn nods, breaks away from Christian's grip and does the worst thing he can. He walks casually back to me and places another full smacker on my utterly stunned lips, smiles down at me and winks. My eyes expand in shock and the last of my colour drains away. I'm still rooted in place, too numb to move. He lifts Chris into the air and gives him a bear hug.

"Bye Dr Shawn!" my little boy's innocent voice contrasting harshly with the thunderous air in the great room and I pull him to me, prepared to shield him from the storm breaking.

Dr Shawn is waving a bright red flag at an already agitated bull, it's clear that Christian's considerable control is frayed, hanging by a thread and I pray for it to hold just another minute. He ambles back to Christian – seemingly unconcerned – but thankfully, ready to go.

As he passes Christian, they fix their stares again and I see Christian mouth some words to him. I can't hear but Dr Shawn's body stiffens in response before he strides away, Taylor following to ensure that he leaves.

I drop onto the couch sucking in air as I go. _That was crazy intense!_ I know I should be grateful that they didn't beat the crap out of each other but I'm so mad that it almost got that far. Christian's overreaction was way over!

He stomps past me, his anger still tightly coiled inside, discharging a promise of violence as he disappears into his study and slams the door.

As I sit there, pounding heart and nerves grating I just get madder. He sent the doctor to us! I do like him and if I'm honest, he's good for my shaky ego – what girl wouldn't be flattered if an attractive guy pays her some attention - but that's it. He doesn't bring me that toe curling, pelvis clenching, heart constricting desire that I have with Christian. But Christian is mad at me! I didn't kiss the doc, he kissed me! I didn't make him come to Escala, Christian arranged it. I was only planning on going to this charity thing to help him out – though - I'm pretty sure that that's off the cards now. All of this while Christian is still woefully uncommitted to me!

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ I try to draw from Ana 2.0 but she's mad too! Fuelled with anger and resolve I pick Chris up and plant him in front of the big screen. I pick a movie, knowing that it will keep him riveted for a while. After a hug and a kiss I'm ready to face Christian in what might be our biggest showdown yet. It's time he makes up his damn mind.

My rapid knock on his study door is in time with my pounding heart but I don't wait for him to invite me in. I open the door and find him on the phone. I only catch the end of the conversation.

"…..yes, that's what I said, in half and hour!" he barks at the caller and slams it down. Storm grey eyes never leaving mine.

"Was that Dr Flynn?" I ask, a hopeful seed in my chest.

He snorts, "I haven't seen Flynn in years." His tone carries every accusation his heart has filed away against me and his stare is cold.

_Oh?_

It hikes up my boiling anger, "maybe you should reconsider." The challenge flashes in my eyes.

"Are you looking for a fight Anastasia?" his graceful body is prowling toward me from behind his desk, predatory and damn right scary.

I back down a little, injecting some calm into my voice, "no Christian but what the hell just happened?"

"What **happened**?" his incredulous whisper screaming his anger as a deep crease folds into his brow. "Tell me Anastasia, is there a fucking man alive that isn't under your spell?" he growls these words at me and I step back, bringing my body flush against the closed door. He smacks both palms onto the door, each one on either side of my head, his tense form caging me in.

The sound makes me jump and for the first time ever I'm afraid of him, really afraid. I feel the heat of his fury, his unrelenting gaze drilling into mine. My mouth is paper dry; I can only plead his mercy with my eyes as I slowly shake my head _no_.

"I should lock you up in a fucking tower!" his face is just inches away from me, his breathing is ragged as he labours under his slipping restraint.

Defiance lances through my fear and reconnects me with my anger, "I'm not yours to lock up." My hoarse whisper is laced with the quiet steel of truth.

I watch my words settle on him and he closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against mine. I can hear him grinding his teeth in frustration. "Why are you mad at me?" my voice a little bolder now that I can see him clawing back his precious control.

"I didn't bring him into our lives, I didn't kiss him back." I slide my hands up his chest then cup his face, the ever present stubble grazing my hands. "At worst I'm flattered by his attention." I will him to open his eyes and look at me.

His lids fly open and the searing watch scorches me with a fevered zeal. "He wants my son and he wants you, his desire for you burns naked in his face."

"For now, we're here. With you." I pause to give my statement time to get a grip in his mind. "But you can't let things get out of hand like that, especially with Chris around. The thing is, the doc has been great with Chris and they genuinely like each other. I've started to look to him as a **friend**." I emphasise the last word while reasoning with him all the while keeping my voice low.

When I hear him draw breath to protest I warn him with a lone finger on his lips not to interrupt me. "He can want all he likes but Chris is your son, nothing will ever change that. I've told you what I want from you but you're the one holding back and until that changes, you don't get to be proprietary over me."

I was hoping that bringing up his possessive nature will create an opportunity to give him my contract but he zeroes in on something else and I see the chance fade.

"You're leaving?" he pushes off the door and treads back; a mega dose of distress drags two raking hands through his hair. A look of confusion pinches his features.

"I'm not sure what you were expecting Christian," it's my turn to look sceptical and both my hands are splayed open – palms up, "once this threat blows over, we'll be going home." I gulp against my constricting throat. I don't want to go home, but if we're not together how can I stay?

Resignation clouds his eyes as he accepts my words and not for the first time I wonder what it would take to get him to see that he's denying something he wants just as badly as I do. I always knew it was going to be an epic job to chip away at the walls he keeps himself hidden behind but I'm beginning to lose hope.

As an afterthought I remember Dr Shawn's invite. I better tell Christian before he finds out by some other stalky way. "Just so you know, Dr Shawn invited me to join him on Monday night for a Doctors without Borders benefit – just as friends – but in the light of today's… stand-off, I don't think I'll be going."

"I don't want you anywhere near him." It's a command, resolute and final.

"Like I said Christian, it's not your decision to make."

We glare at each other, stubborn and fractious, emotions tangling in a twisted mess.

"Bastille is waiting for me, I have to go." He tucks his head down and stalks out the room.

_Ah, that's what the call was about. Good! Go kick the shit out of something!_ Maybe that'll improve his brooding mood. Actually I envy him; I wouldn't mind kicking the crap out of a few things myself right now!

_So much for getting a decision out of him._

I leave the study reeling, drained and disheartened. My flailing willpower to fight for this relationship is fast overtaking my desire to be in it. I miss my mom, I wish I could call her to come over and watch Chris so I can wallow in my self-pity for a while but my little champ will be ready for lunch round about now and a mother never gets a day off.

As predicted the first words out of Chris' mouth when he sees me is that he's hungry. "I want pizza mommy!"

_Ah yes, Chris and pizza,_ I sigh inward. I started this pizza making thing with him to teach him how to eat veggies and it soon became a favourite activity for us. We make it from scratch, roll out the dough and decorate them with a rainbow of vegetables. He loves it so much that he refuses to eat bought pizza so, where other moms get a break when it's pizza night, for me it's a big job that culminates in a huge cleaning chore.

Normally I don't mind, I love the time we spend together but today I lack my usual enthusiasm. "What about some cheese toast? Yum, yum!" I coax.

"Noooooo pizza!" he crosses his arms and gets an obstinate look that I've recently become reacquainted with. _So like his father._

I shake my head. Maybe it'll be good for us, a little normality; it may also keep my mind off the impending grandparent visit. "Okay buddy, let's go."

I admire the well-stocked fridge and find more than I could possibly need. I take out some shelling peas; something for him to do that doesn't require a knife. I switch on the oven and start on the dough. After the peas, Chris does the kneading and I choose something frivolous from my iPod for us to listen too. LMFO, that should do it I think when the strains of "I'm Sexy and I Know It" starts to reverberate around the room with a pulsing, reinvigorating energy.

Chris decides to make pizza for everyone, Christian, Collins and the expected grandparents so we make mini sizes with a mad range of toppings. Looking at it I know their hearts will melt. He's so sweet, my little boy. I can't resist kissing him on the bunched V of his forehead signalling his concentration.

I put half in the oven and keep the other half to bake when Grace and Carrick arrives. The smell of baking dough and bubbling mozzarella fills the kitchen and wafts well into the great room, it's an enticing aroma and my mouth starts to water.

As I pull the tray out of the oven with an impatient Chris keeping a close eye, Christian strolls back in, this time without Taylor lurking in the background. His black tank top is clinging to his sweat slick body in a way that makes me want to bite him. His sweat pants hang on that sexy low of his hips, inviting to be pushed down. He seems much more relaxed and I have to focus on keeping my breathing even.

"That smells amazing!" there's a tentative glint in his eyes as he searches my face for my mood.

I answer with a reserved smile and equally tentative, "that it does, your son's creative work." I lift him off the counter so he can go to Christian.

"I made you some pizza daddy!" he bounds to Christian's side and leads him over by the hand. "Come, eat with us!"

It's gratifying to see that Chris has embraced Christian so wholeheartedly and I love the way he draws him in, his child mind already understanding that they have a relationship to build, lost time to make up for.

"That's fantastic buddy; did you do this all by yourself?"

"No, mommy helped me. Why are you so wet?" he pinches a fold of Christian's tank top between his fingers and pulls it away.

"I went boxing at the gym, should I go shower first?" Christian winks at me, amused with Chris.

"No, it's okay, you don't stink." His child-like matter-of-factness is adorable and Christian and I giggle together, melting the coolness between us away.

I try to relax during lunch but the virtual clock tick-tocking in my head has me on edge; soon it'll be time to face Grace and Carrick. On one level I'm keen to get it over with but on another I would love to never deal with them again. _What they must think of me!_

"That was great buddy, thank you!" Christian kisses Chris on his cheek as he passes him on the way to stack his plate in the dishwasher.

Chris basks in Christian's compliment and does his best to impress his dad further, "we made some extra for grandma and grandpa."

Christian hears his note of pride and pays him a little extra attention, ready to prove that he'll never have to fight for his dad's approval. "That's very thoughtful of you; I know that it'll make them feel very welcome."

Chris' beaming smile is Christian's reward and I marvel at how insightful he can be.

Mrs Taylor will only be back on Monday which leaves the cleaning duties to us. Christian makes a game out of it with Chris and all too soon we're done, bringing us another moment closer to the grandparent face-off, as I've dubbed it in my head.

"Oh, by the way, mom said that Mia will be coming along this afternoon." It's a casual statement, like telling me it's a sunny day – apparently oblivious to my clutching anxiety as he strolls away to take his shower.

_Great! _I think sarcastically, another Grey that I adore to disappoint.

Not long after Christian joins us in the great room Collins announces the threesome's arrival. I've done everything I can to bolster my quivering nerves, I've changed into a demure dress, re-applied my make-up and twisted my hair into an sophisticated bun, trying to erase any reference to what they surely must think of as fickle Ana.

To his flabbergasted annoyance, Chris had undergone the same treatment. He's scrubbed and brushed and changed, looking the model grandson for this occasion. As we stand I resist the urge to lick my fingers and smooth down his wayward hair but I give-in to re-adjusting his clothes - again and I get an irritated wiggle from him, my nerves unable to let me leave well enough alone.

Christian takes my hand as we walk to the Foyer to meet them, my heart a rolling drumbeat in my chest while I hold onto his as if it's the air I need to breathe. He looks to our joint hands and then to me, amusement and sympathy swirl in his eyes, "It'll be fine," he reassures me.

_Easy for him to say!_

Grace is her usual elegant, contained self and she smiles warmly at me enveloping me in a big hug before pushing my shoulders back and studying my face, "you look wonderful darling girl, it's so good to see you!" her affectionate smile couldn't have surprised me more.

I get more of the same from Carrick though he's a tad more reserved. Mia bounces excitedly in front of me and clamps me to her chest, "oh Ana, I've missed you!"

_Huh?_

Chris has both arms curled around my leg, shyness hiding him behind the folds of my dress as he peeks around my side at the newcomers.

When Grace spots him she goes pale and her hand flies to her mouth. It muffles the mewling gasp as her memories compare Chris' healthy glow to Christian's malnourished, unwashed condition when he first came to live with them. Carrick grips both her shoulders, no doubt sharing the same flash back as Chris' likeness to Christian stares them in the face.

Mia, who has no recollection of this, gives him a dazzling smile, her eyes lively with joy as she kneels in front of him, almost reverently. "Hi" it's a breathy, awed whisper.

Her openness draws him out from behind my skirt and he gives her a wave, biting his bottom lip – still uncertain but curious.

I crouch down next to him, "this is daddy's sister, she's your aunt! Her name is Mia."

"But you can call me Mia, just Mia, aunt is for stuffy old ladies!" she interjects, playfully pinching him on his tummy.

He chuckles dodging behind me, beginning a game of peek-a-boo with her over my shoulders.

When she catches my eye all I see is sincerity's bright glow. "He's gorgeous Ana, well done!"

Her utter lack of anger toward me has me stumped and I feel the tightness of unease grow in the pit of my belly.

Mia straightens and envelops Christian in one of her full-body hugs then punches him on the arm, "you're an ass you know that!"

"Hello to you too Mia." As is his usual way with her, he eyes her with indulgent amusement.

_What is going on here?_

It's Grace and Carrick's turn to meet Chris now that they've had time to recompose themselves. With emotion still thick, strumming just below the surface they both bend down to connect with him at his level.

Carrick is first to speak, "hello there young man." He holds out his hand and offers it to Chris. He hesitates only for an instant before returning his grandfather's shake enthusiastically, pumping his arm up and down, enjoying the novelty of being greeted like an adult.

"Hello," he clasps his hands in front of him and swings his shoulders from side to side. When he's sees Carrick's encouraging smile he risks a question, "is your name grandad?"

Carrick throws his head back in a great bark of laughter, finally piercing the awkwardness, providing the perfect ice breaker.

"No, my name is Carrick but you can call me grandad if you like." He winks at Chris and reaches for Grace's hand.

"And this," his warm gaze affirming and comforting at once as he looks to Grace, "is your grandma, Grace."

Grace is trying her very best to keep her cheerful smile but another wave of feelings engulfs her. Instinct takes over and she wraps her arms around him, powerless to fight the tide's rise.

I'm awed and humbled at the ready, instant love for him. Grace is openly weeping, pressing Chris into her neck, stroking his hair and kissing him over and over. I watch a hesitant little arm curve around her shoulder to pat gently, soothing her.

The dam wall that served as containment for my emotions over the last five years cracks then ruptures, breaching all my defences in an unstoppable gush. The guilt, shame and regret flooding the banks of my being, sweeping everything away in its powerful surge and forcing my spilling tears.

I can hardly breathe against the crushing heave. It's only Christian's steeled embrace anchoring me, I would be grateful if I had the capacity for it right now.

In that moment my regret sears so hot, so true that I feel branded with it. How will I ever explain? I drag a breath uttering a shaky, stammering apology, "I'm.. I'm so sorry." I know how pitifully inadequate it is, their forgiveness is much more than I deserve.

Grace lifts her tear streaked face and stands with Chris in her arms, along with Carrick and Mia they move to surround us and draws us into a family hug.

When we eventually break away, readjusting to the new way our emotions have settled, Chris is the one with something on his mind, "you can call me Chris," his thumb poking proudly into his chest.

It's like a cleansing breath for us all, his quirky little sense of humour that makes us smile real smiles as it dawns that no-one ever bothered to introduce him.

We congregate in the great room, taking seats and start the journey to recovery and reconnecting.

I offer a round of drinks and slip away to the kitchen to put Chris' pizzas in the oven. When I start with coffee, Grace joins me. "Ana, he's such a lovely child; you did a great job with him." As the mother of three fantastic children her comment flatters me but I still can't help or explain the tight knot of suspicious uncertainty I feel about their very warm welcome for me.

"Thank you Grace, he's a pleasure, I enjoy him so much."

After an awkward silent beat she starts, "darling girl, I know this is hard; and even harder to talk about but please," her troubled eyes plead with mine, "don't let Christian's rash behaviour come between us. He knows he made a huge mistake, I'm just so grateful that he's eventually came around. If only he had come to me, talked to me, I could've put things in perspective for him. " Her hand rests lightly on my forearm punctuating her sincerity, it's just that I've no idea what she's talking about.

"Can I help you with the tray Anastasia?" Christian interrupts before I have a chance to find out.

"Uhm, yes, sure. Thank you." I slide the tray across the counter for him to take and for reasons unknown, I blush. He narrows his slate gaze at us then engages his mother so that she has no choice but to follow him back to the great room.

When the mini pizzas are ready I call Chris over and he takes great pleasure in walking around with a serving dish, offering his creations. His pride is adorable and everyone's completely besotted with him. The whole scene is heart-warming, my heart squeezing at all the love surrounding him; he's brought an extra measure of happiness to their lives.

The talk is mostly about Chris and he gets passed on from one Grey to the next, sitting on their laps and basking in the attention. The topic turns to his birth and the doctor in Grace drills me about the details. Every so often I catch Christian's expression which he's carefully guarding but when I recount the story of the emergency caesarean I had to have when infant Chris was in distress, his horror is unmistakable. He makes a grab for my hand, drawing the attention of the whole family who stares at our locked hands in astonishment. The blush racing up my face is accompanied by a cringe.

Mia comes to the rescue and shares her news that I've missed over the last few years. She's opened her own little Bistro which of course is roaring but she's still unattached, "looking for Mr Right," she quips but the shadow passing her gaze is at odds with her flippant tone. I wonder what happened between her and Ethan.

Beside me Christian straightens his legs and leans to one side to fish his phone out of his pants pocket. It's obviously on the silent setting. He glances at the screen then makes his excuse to take the call in privacy. His long strides take him to the seclusion of his study in double quick time.

_I hope it's useful news about our threat-situation._

"Ana, I know it's all very new but if ever you need someone to babysit this little angel – for any reason – please keep us in mind." She gives Carrick's hand a warm squeeze where it rests on her knee, a loving look passing between them. "It's been such a long time since we've had little feet patter around the old place."

I smile as sincerely as I can, how can I refuse? "I'll do that! Thank you."

When Christian joins us the tension around his eyes are unambiguous and he's vibrating with a quiet, simmering anger.

_Oh dear!_

Carrick takes the cue, "I think we've exhausted this little man enough for one day," he winks and tickles Chris as he pushes himself up and holds a hand out to Grace.

They all stand and I see Christian's indebted but discreet nod to his dad. Mia elbows Grace out of the way to be the one to carry Chris to the elevator and it's clear that she's taken up the role of favourite, flamboyant aunt with glee.

With hugs all around and a promise to see each other soon, everyone is more at ease except for me; I'm still unable to shake the feeling that something isn't quite right.

Christian's agitated hand sweeps through his hair when the elevator doors swish closed and with the other he pinches the bridge of his nose. The grey in his eyes looking bleak.

"What's the matter?" I ask hoping that for once it's not me.

"Can we talk?" he looks down to Chris and I know he means alone.

"Sure, I'll just get something for him to do," he nods and marches to his study.

I set Chris up with a game on the iPad and feel like a sheep heading for slaughter on my way to Christian. The silent prayer for him not to be mad at me again is a chant in my head.

A cautious knock from me on the open door alerts him to my presence and, gallant as ever, he stands until I take a seat across from him. "I need to ask you something and you have to be completely honest with me, think really hard, this is important." He starts with no preamble.

"Okay," the flutters of fear beginning a slow dance in my stomach. All qualms about his unrealistically forgiving and accepting parents flee my mind.

"Have you ever mentioned my, uhm… lifestyle to anyone, discussed it with anyone?"

I shake my head; this is definitely something I'm certain of, "apart from Kate whom you already know about, I've never breathed a word."

"Not even Jose?" his mouth twisting at the taste of Jose's name.

"No Christian, never, not one word." My head making an emphatic shake.

He blows out a long breath, slumps back and slides a hand through his hair.

"It's not Kate, any scandal surrounding me will be a scandal for them too and she wouldn't betray me like that." He's ponderous, almost talking to himself.

_Kate will be part of a scandal surrounding Christian? Christian trusts Kate? _

"What's going on?" fear pushing dread through my veins.

"The call earlier, it was from Welsh. He's been informed by someone we trust that a "reporter" has been sniffing around, trying to interview members of an exclusive BDSM club that I used to belong to. Asking about me. It seems he's working on an expose." There's a bile bitterness in the cadence of his voice.

"No!" my fingers flutter to the well of my throat, "do you think it's connected to the message in your office and our attempted break in?"

"It's hard to say but it must be more than a coincidence that all of this is happening at once. Barney has set up an interview with the reporter, posing as a member of the club to gain access to the guy's hard drive, weird thing is, he isn't who he says he is. The publication he claims to work for has never heard of him and we can't find any record of him being a freelancer. "

"And? Have you seen what he has so far, maybe leads on his sources?" I concentrate to keep my tone even in spite of my thumping heart.

"No, I'm waiting for him to e-mail me." He's still for a beat and then surprises me by continuing, "things have turned messy with the Korean negotiations, I'm taking over a poorly run renewable energy plant and a handful of corrupt directors are planning to vote against my takeover. A scandal like this will give them the ammo to kill the deal. The company will go under; the crooked board members will squirrel away millions in government grants while thousands will lose their jobs."

Not for the first time it strikes me that he carries an immense responsibility on his shoulders. To be held accountable for so many people's livelihood must be stressful enough but the pressure he puts on himself exceeds it by far yet, he never seems to falter. It's admirable and commands respect, sexy as hell - this powerful, composed man.

"North or South Korea?" I ask hoping to look informed.

"South, in Seoul" he answers me, looking down and pale.

We remain silent for a while, mulling over the latest information.

"The members of this club, do you trust them?" My question draws his eyes back to mine.

"Yes, I do, they have a lot to lose if they talk, many of them are prominent in the business world. I'm more concerned with where he got the tipoff. This is a very private club, not the type of thing that you can look-up in the yellow pages," his mouth forms a wry line, "strictly referrals only."

His e-mail pings a message alert and he pours himself into the facts making me feel surplus, "let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Is it okay if I get Chris ready for bed?"

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry Anastasia," he shakes his head clearing it, apologising for losing himself in his task, "sure, get him ready, I'll come and read him a story when you're done."

I go through the motions with Chris, bathing him and brushing teeth but my mind is with Christian, concern gnawing away at my peace.

Chris drags Christian away from his desktop for story time and for a short while we forget the invading outside world. Many cuddles later Chris settles and beams a sleepy, happy smile at us before he embraces sleep.

It always amazes me how Christian can compartmentalise his feelings. I know that he's worried about the latest developments but you'd never know looking at him when he's with Chris.

"Any news?" I ask once we've closed the door and walk back to the great room.

"Not much, no. So far he seems to have come up empty on me except for the usual info that's public knowledge but he does have a contact list, Barney will cross reference that to our database and see if anything matches."

I nod; a little bewildered at his recourses. "Can I pour you a glass of wine?"

"Please Anastasia."

I pour us both a glass and straighten out the kitchen while Christian sits at the breakfast nook. I feel his gaze follow me around and it heats my blood spreading a rosy glow on my cheeks.

It makes me feel naked, exposed so I break the silence with a query that's been weighing on my mind, "You mentioned Kate earlier; you obviously still have contact with her." I'm too chicken to ask outright, phrasing it so that he can fill in the blanks.

"Yes, she's married to Elliot now. They've been in Holland for the last two years, working on a joint venture with the EU and various aid agencies to come up with a design for an eco dwelling that can be mass produced, assembled quickly and moved anywhere for use in refugee camps, natural disaster zones, you know, that kind of thing." His hand makes a vague all-encompassing gesture.

"Wow, that's great." That's another person I'm dreading to face. In my single-minded determination to hide from Christian I avoided her along with everyone else. I know she must be super pissed at me, writing off our friendship like that. I hope she can understand that I didn't want to jeopardise her relationship with Elliot and put her in an impossible position to choose.

He regards me quizzically, hearing my lack of conviction, "it might surprise you that Kate and I have become friends. After you left she was the only connection I had to you…" he trails off and shrugs, turning his watch away.

It's hard to hear that my ex-best friend and ex-husband cried on each other's shoulders. I realise how much I've missed her, I've never thought of her as an ex-friend, only as an absent one.

"You look tired Anastasia, go to bed." The concern in his voice touches the very depths of my heart but I know it means nothing if he can't see it himself.

I swirl the last of my wine in my glass and gulp it down, "I am. Maybe things will look better in the morning."

Last night I felt hopeful, our potential relationship blooming with possibilities but tonight I feel deflated. "Good night Christian." As I walk past him I give him a squeeze on what I know is a beautifully defined bicep, not lingering to see his reaction as I continue down the passage to my room.

I feel slightly better after my bath and make a last trip to the kitchen for a glass of water before turning in - this time with my black silk kimono tied securely over my revealing slip. I'm not taking any chances.

The lights have all been turned off except for the strip glowing from Christian's study and the pendulums over the kitchen island. I pour myself a glass of water and down it in one go. When I turn to leave Christian is standing behind me, making me jump and I clutch at my heart with fright.

He's holding a sheet of paper in one hand and in spite of the darkness I sense the intensity of his rage. "You scared me." my voice is whisper quiet, my mouth suddenly dry again.

He slams the sheet on the island, under the lights but he doesn't say a word. My eyes darting from him to the paper and back to him finally realising that he wants me to read the page. I step closer, peering at the printed words. I don't recognise the logo but the design indicates that it's something medical. It's a statement of some sort, expenses listed, one below the other. As I sweep down the list my eyes brake at one that's circled in red, halting my breath.

I feel him behind me, "is this for **him** Anastasia? Do you want the fucking doctor?" his accusing tone can only be described as a snarl.

I close my eyes against the burgeoning anger, _when will he learn?_ I twist around and look up into his eyes, unashamed, bold. "No."

"Why then? Why would you get an IUD?" the steel of his gaze is bolted to mine, unrelenting.

"You are an ass!" I tear away my stare, aware that I'm going to have to spell it out but every fibre of my being rebelling against it.

His body has me pinned while he grips my chin to move my head, capturing my gaze again. I jut out my chin in defiance, "it's for you!" I spit out the words that should have had a romantic lilt to them.

His eyes widen in shock before a dangerously wicked shadow of lust burns his anger away.

In less than a second both my hands are secured in his irony grip, while the other unties my robe with practised ease. A scorching hand glides over the smooth fabric of my slip igniting a fire trail in its path. His hot mouth crushes mine, bruising and consuming. Between licking at my mouth and taking a breath his growling whisper reverberates through my core, "is this what you want Anastasia?"

My stunted senses are in overload, neurons firing only in one direction as heat and desire pools between my legs. "Aaahh… yes."

"And this?" his hand slips the thin strap off my shoulder and it falls away revealing a tight nipple on a milky breast screaming for attention. His skilled fingers relieving the ache with a hard pinch before he cups the full orb, kneading it roughly.

I can only gasp into his mouth, no longer able to articulate a single thought. He pushes himself against me, rocking his hips and thick erection against my sex.

I throw my head back, dragging in some air, my body unused to the overpowering stimulation. Christian's hungry mouth finds my neck, "and this?" his hand skating over the goose bumps of my upper thighs as he cups my behind and lifts my leg over his anchoring hip.

The growl he makes when his hand encounters naked flesh, without the barriers of panties, sends my need for him out of control. His hand quickly snakes around, unstoppable and eager to dive between us and into the swollen folds of my saturated sex. "Ana." The sound is primitive - pained and tortured. I feel his body go tense as he stops all ministrations, enfolding me in a bone crushing embrace, burying his sweaty head in my neck and breathing hard.

"_What the hell?!"_

It grabs me away from my storming release like ice water, all my systems on high alert. I cling to him with all my might as my own ragged breathing sounds in my ears. Our reunion and the promise of nirvana stealing away with every slowing beat of our hearts.

When I lift his face to mine the expression I find is anguish. "Is this what **you **want?" I ask gently, not sure where we stand.

"Fuck Ana, I don't know. I don't know what to do. I lose all sense around you." his tone is beseeching, imploring my help though I'm not sure what I can do.

"Can't you just give in to us, admit that it's what you want?"

"I'm terrified Ana, don't you understand? What if we fuck it up again? Losing the two of you? I won't survive."

_Fuck, that's what it all comes down to, broken trust. No, broken might still be fixed, this is shattered trust._

His honesty takes my breath away. "What if I could prove to you that I won't run?" finally I get my chance and I seize it.

He shakes his head, eyes confused and brow knitted, not understanding.

"I have something for you, something I drew up, just for you. Please read it, it will explain." I wait for his okay then race to my bedroom to fish out the printed copy of my contract.

If this doesn't work I'm out of ideas. I don't think I'll be able to go on trying in the mighty face of his resistance.

I've gone to some silly lengths to make it look authentic, even sealing the envelope with a red wax seal; I just hope he doesn't think it's stupid. I pad into his study where I knew he'd be waiting for me - his territory - the seat of his power. His back is turned to me, lost in the twinkling lights of the inky Seattle night.

My heart sinks when his turn reveals his impassive face, a careful guard in his watch.

Uh-oh.

"This is for you," I swallow past the unease, "it's a contract that I've already signed, what you can expect from me." My words have the desired effect as I see recognition for the ones he used once to effectively slice through my reticence.

He takes the envelope and turns it over in his hand, looking at it like it's an alien thing.

"This is it Christian, right here, right now. This is the moment and I want you to be certain, to know, that I choose you. Us." My murmur is loaded with sentiment, willing him to choose me too.

This is the last encouragement he needs to sit down and open the envelope.

_Contract of agreement between Anastasia Rose Steel and Christian Grey._

_This is a contract entered into by Anastasia Rose Steele (hereinafter referred to as "the Girlfriend" and Christian Grey (hereinafter referred to as "the Boyfriend") on this date: __

_The Girlfriend undertakes to offer the Boyfriend the following undertakings in a binding and willing manner in order to bring peace of mind and romantic certainty to the Boyfriend within the confines of a romantic, committed relationship._

_This Contact Serves to Stipulate the Following Terms of Expectations:_

_The Girlfriend will always endeavour to be honest with the Boyfriend, communicating openly in order to provide the Boyfriend with a clear understanding of her needs, desires and emotions._

_The Girlfriend commits never to leave this relationship for any reason whatsoever except with the express desire of the Boyfriend._

_The Girlfriend undertakes to consult a specialist of the Boyfriend's choosing to help her address her insecurities and will commit to the steps deemed necessary by said specialist in order to overcome these insecurities._

_The Girlfriend will heed to a "safe-word" of the Boyfriend's choosing when she pushes him beyond the limits he deems acceptable._

_The Girlfriend will obey the Boyfriend in all things except when the Boyfriend is being overbearing and unreasonable._

_The Girlfriend promises not to defy the Boyfriend's requests except when she deems it necessary._

_The Girlfriend will eat as often and as healthily as she can but the Boyfriend will not deem it as a fault of hers if she fails to do so at every opportunity._

_The Girlfriend commits to regular, quality sleep but should the Girlfriend be unable to do so, the Boyfriend will be understanding._

_The Girlfriend will be thrilled with any item the Boyfriend wishes to bestow on her whether it be clothes, jewellery, automobiles or any other thing that he sees fit._

_The Girlfriend commits to an exercise regime of the Boyfriend's choosing for three hours per week provided that she has the time and access to relevant child care._

_The Girlfriend will undergo any beauty treatment deemed necessary by the Boyfriend with the minimum of complaining._

_The Girlfriend will at all times respect and heed the Boyfriend's need to keep her safe, making as many as possible reasonable adjustments in order to help him to trust her judgment._

_The Girlfriend will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Boyfriend and recognize that her behaviour is a direct reflection on the Boyfriend._

_Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Boyfriend._

_This contract shall be governed by the laws of our relationship._

_Closing Statement Defining the Spirit of this Contact:_

_Christian Grey, I love you and I want to be what you need, your salvation, your everything. I'm entering into this contract with my eyes wide open, accepting all the things that come with you. Let me love you. With this I give you my entire heart, unreservedly, because I trust you with it. I broke my wedding vows once for reasons I thought altruistic at the time but now I revoke my right to leave, fully and completely with nothing wavering. With this I hope to show you my absolute certainty in our future._

_Signatures of parties involved:_

_Anastasia Rose Steele Christian Grey_

While his head is bent over the contract, concentrating, the silence is stinging my ears. I feel like pacing but I don't want to distract him. Long minutes pass that does nothing to calm my strung-out nerves. When he finally lifts his head, I feel the punch in my gut, the dry burn in my throat.

Of all the expressions I was expecting, dumbfounded incredulousness what the last one I anticipated. "You think…. I want you…. as my girlfriend?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello dear readers, thank you for the stunning comments for the last chapter, it's wonderful to see the different views. Please continue to review - please, pretty please…x**

Chapter 16

The phone rings and Christian snatches it up, the gravel in his voice barking at the caller, "Grey."

Mercifully it takes his drilling eyes off me and I can suffer the immense blow in relative privacy. How the fuck did I get this so wrong? Again? My thoughts are swirling around the images of the last few days, trying in vain to piece together something, anything that could have warned me of this doomed moment. The magnitude of the shock is thankfully keeping me numb, the black hole of my heart seemed to have sucked all emotions away. For now, it's an empty shell.

Maybe it will deal with this grievous loss a little bit at a time. Yes I think, that must be it, sort of bite-size pieces of pain, quite manageable, quite clever actually - I congratulate it. That'll be the way forward, process and move on, process and move on though; I'm not sure how long I'll have to do that. Getting over the loss of Christian Grey hasn't happened in the last five years so, realistically what am I looking at I wonder, another five? Ten maybe? Maybe never.

Through the haze of my encompassing numbness I vaguely hear Christian's voice climbing a few octaves, not quite yelling, but almost. _Uh-oh he's mad_ my subconscious sing-songs at me.

The sharp crash of the phone back onto its cradle along with Christian's expletive jolts me back into myself. "Fuck, shit!" two furiously agitated hands race through his hair then both fists dash with sharp tucks into his waist. "Fuck!" he spits again, looking at the phone with murder in his eyes.

He remembers me and zooms into my wide-eyed, vacuous stare, "Ana, listen that was Taylor, Ros has let things get out of hand in Seoul, the plant's employees are rioting and we've received various threats regarding the takeover, I have to leave **right now**, we'll talk about this later, I'm sorry but I have to go. The jet is standing by at SeaTac." While he's talking to me he's stuffing documents into his briefcase then shuts it with a thud and a look of pure determination.

I nod my head and he mistakenly identifies my expression as fear. He walks up to me and places a warm hand on my shoulder, my head turns to watch it lie there as if it has some claim on me. "It'll all work out, don't worry. Please tell Chris that I'll make it up to him - the sailing." He moves his head into my line of sight to try and catch my gaze and automatically my eyes slide to his. "Please stay out of trouble, I mean it Anastasia! We'll keep in touch." The stern note compels me to nod again and then, he's gone, his purposeful strides echoing in my ears.

So this is ground zero in the emotional sense. I can't even muster concern for him and Taylor and Ros. By sheer force of habit my body turns and my feet walk out of the room, down the passage to my bedroom where I lie down and turn the light off. I'm poised, ready for the impact of the pain that doesn't come since some smart internal system shuts my body down before I fry my nerves, promptly dropping me into an abyss of blackness.

When morning and wakefulness arrive I open one eye and groan in pain, I must be sick, some virus I think. My whole body aches and my limbs pumped full of lead. I breathe out a long breath and force my mind to focus on relaxing, maybe I can fall asleep again, I'm sure Christian will look after Chris….The brief, obliviously happy thought shatters as the full force of reality tackles me head-on in the gut and I gasp, praying that it's the whole portion because if this is what a bite-size of grief feels like; I've reached my end.

I curl into a tight ball and wonder how I'll make it through the day. I'm dying to rewind the night and never go for that final glass of water. Oh sweet ignorance that was bliss, for the first time I truly, fully comprehend that expression.

I feel utterly alone, I'm here in a strange city, I hardly know a soul in an apartment that I can't leave - I don't have the energy to argue with Christian about going home. Not that he's here though, I must admit that it is a consolation. I don't think I could face him today.

I have a deep need to talk to my mom and maybe Ray too, just for good measure. I hope Chris won't be too disappointed about the sailing, I'm not sure I can handle a sulking child today. My muscles protest the move out of bed and I shuffle to the shower hoping to wash just a tiny bit of sanity back into myself.

Chris takes the news relatively well and I bribe his cooperation today with loads more TV than I would usually allow. For most of the morning I just sit and stare into space, my head jackhammering with a single question: _why?_

When Collins notices my state he wisely stays out of my way. Just before lunch I decide to call my mom. It takes a herculean effort from me to get up, find my phone and dial but when she doesn't answer I'm forced to call Ray instead.

"Annie, I've been waiting for you to call me!" I groan, my low spirits sinking lower. The last thing I need right now is a lecture on how stupid I've been. I think I finally get the full picture.

Ray's voice turns anxious when I don't reply immediately, "Annie, is everything okay?"

"Oh dad." My voice cracks as the grief tears through me like nails on a chalk board – grating, sending hacking shudders through my rigid body.

I hear him sigh, "it was a long shot Annie, you need to be realistic, once trust is broken like that it's almost impossible to repair." His sane, reasonable explanation doesn't begin to penetrate the depth of despair surrounding me even though the rational bit of my brain recognises the truth in his words.

I cry harder, surprised that I still have tears left to spill. "Why don't you and Chris pack your things and come for a visit? Away from it all for a bit, you know; a clean break."

"I can't right now dad, but…but thanks." I blubber in response.

"How are things with the book?" he's out of his depth, desperate to help me but floundering in the face of such raw emotions, he can't make me tea so he changes the subject.

"It's good dad, promising, we'll see." I can't bear to tell him the details; I'm not even sure what I'm going to do about that now. "How are things with you?"

"Good Annie," he hesitates for a beat then continues, "I caught up with Jose senior."

_Ah, Jose's dad!_

"Oh, how is he, how's Jose?" A new trickle of nervousness merges with all the other strumming emotions; I know that I seriously screwed with his feelings.

"Okay from the sounds of it, apparently had a girlfriend for a while, Jose says she was a dead ringer for you. I think he said she was an artist."

Ray doesn't have to spell it out for me, the accusation in his voice is clear enough. I'm glad that he's finally managing to move on. For a brief moment I put my own hurt aside and, not for the first time, I wonder if I should call him to apologise.

"Oh, that's good right? I wonder how they met?" I'm just making small talk, holding on to the brief reprieve before it's just me, alone with the heartache again.

"I think he said that your old friend Kate's brother knew her, I didn't really pay too much attention."

"I hope it's the first step of many good ones for him." I say and mean it. _Boy, when I screw up I do it properly!_

"Did you tell him that I lied about Christian throwing us out?" my question is tentative, one I'm not sure I want the answer to. I trace a circle with my toe on the floor, breath bated.

"No Annie, I didn't think that would do anybody any good. If the boy is finally on the road to recovery, I figured, let sleeping dogs lie."

I nod and wring my hands, more tears welling, ever so close to the surface. "Thanks dad." It's a strained whisper, just on the edge of another breakdown.

"I didn't do it for you Annie. I love you but what you did, I find it very hard to reconcile with the daughter I know."

He might as well have struck me in person. I double over and strain for breath. I clamp my jaw shut, imprisoning the wail trying to escape. He's so right - what can I say – but it doesn't make it any less excruciating to hear.

When I trust my voice not to waiver, I answer him, "I know. I never dreamed that it could get out of hand like this, I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I'm sorry, I don't know what else to do." With that, contrition sears a permanent scar onto my heart.

We say our goodbyes and even though I wouldn't have believed it before the call, my heart is even heavier now. Maybe it was necessary for me to hear, it's put things back into perspective for me. My dad is right, what I did to Christian and Jose was appalling and unforgivable. I really can't expect anything else. Christian's flirtations got my hopes up but I shouldn't have allowed it. It's time I bury this and move on.

Strangely I feel a little better. Knowing that I don't deserve absolution helps me understand it and somehow makes it easier to bare. I can begin to let the hope go. I don't think that the pain will fade anytime soon but I can't keep wallowing in it. I did what I did and I can't take it away, much as I'd like to. Time to face the consequences.

I make some lunch for Chris and am relieved that Christian isn't here to berate me for not eating. I decide that the best course of action is to stay busy. I pull my laptop closer and check my e-mail. Disbelief turns to annoyance when I see an e-mail from Christian. Can't he leave me to grieve in peace?

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Safe arrival_

_Date: 24October 2016 01:27_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Anastasia_

_A quick note to let you know that we have arrived in Seoul. The time here is sixteen hours ahead of Seattle so please keep that in mind if you need anything from me, it might be better to call rather than to e-mail if it's urgent. Collins has all the details of our itinerary and accommodation._

_Please give Chris a hug from me._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

I see we're back to formality and chastise myself for expecting something else. Now, more than ever I have to keep my expectations real.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: Safe arrival_

_Date: 23 October 2016 12:52_

_To: Christian Grey_

_Thank you for letting me know, time difference duly noted._

_Anastasia Steele_

I click send and scroll through the list of e-mails trying to forget about him and for once it's easy because my fourth e-mail is from Kate Grey. I inhale as I open it, my belly a tight ball of anticipation mingled with fear.

_Why is she reaching out after all this time? _

_From: Kate Grey_

_Subject: I'm sorry_

_Date: 22 October 2016 23:46_

_To: Anastasia Steele_

_Dear Anastasia – Ana,_

_I realise that it's been a long time since we've heard anything from each other and there's no point denying that, for a long time, I was hurt by your seemingly flippant write-off of our friendship. With your sudden reappearance, Grace was kind enough to share the nature of your and Christian's break-up and, for the first time, I understand. _

_I'm so sorry that you had to go through that on your own and that you didn't feel you could trust me with the burden. I guess I can see the way you saw it, your friend engaged to the "enemy's" brother and not wanting to spoil it for me. It's touched me deeply and I feel awful that I didn't realise sooner - that things weren't as cut and dried as I thought. When we get back from Holland I might just give Christian the kick in the butt he deserves. _

_There are still a lot of things I'd like to clear up with you but most importantly, I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me and secondly, congratulations on what I hear is a beautiful son._

_(Still) your friend,_

_Kate._

_Kate Grey_

_Executive Officer_

_Keep it Green Building and Design_

There's no mistaking the similar thread that ran through Grace and Mia's comments yesterday which makes sense if Grace told Kate but the question is why do they all seem to think that our break-up is Christian's fault? What did Christian tell them?

_Oh Kate!_ My heart spasms for the loss of our friendship. I hope she still wants to be friends once she hears my version because I know that somehow, Christian lied. I tap out an honest letter for her before I have a change of heart and steal this welcome ray of kindness.

_From: Anastasia Steele_

_Subject: No, I'm sorry_

_Date: 15 October 2016 13:12_

_To: Kate Grey_

_Dear Kate,_

_I loved your letter and more than anything I'd like for us to be friendly again but before then, I think that you should know the whole story. I'm not sure what Christian told his folks but I know that it's not the truth. _

_When I found out I was pregnant (possibly because I forgot to get a birth control shot) I was terrified of Christian's reaction. That coupled with the shock of the situation waking me up to the fact that I was living a fairy tale that I never thought I deserved, made me run. I knew that having a child would be extremely hard for him to accept and I refused to force him into fatherhood. At the same time I already loved the baby I carried so, I did what I felt was saving both baby and Christian. _

_I believed that with time Christian would see that what we had was an infatuation and, at least for him, not love. Eventually he'd be grateful that I gave him an easy exit. I never told him I was pregnant. I knew that both you and Christian had the power to change my mind so I stayed away._

_I was reckless and stupid and fifty shades of blind, I know that now. There's no excuse and I know that I don't deserve your sympathy or your forgiveness but you are right about one thing. I was keen to protect your relationship with Elliot, had it not been for that I do believe that I would have confided in you._

_I am the sorry one._

_Never stopped being your friend,_

_Anastasia Steele_

Right then I decide that whatever she chooses to do, I will abide by it. No more pursuing, just apologise and try to fix what's left after the dust settles.

_So, how's owning-up going for you so far?_ It's my subconscious - sometimes I wish I could kick her!

I listlessly troll though some more e-mails, mainly deleting them to keep my mind off my sad situation.

I don't see Collins enter the room and I nearly jump out of my skin when he speaks to me, "Ms Steele, I have a call for you, it's Mrs Grey." He hands me the cordless handset.

Grace? I wonder what she wants. I take the phone and mouth my thanks. "Grace, it's lovely to hea…"

Before I have time to finish my sentence a gritty shriek that I'll recognise anywhere accosts me: "what the hell were you thinking, do you have any idea what you did to that poor man! You weren't there to pick up the pieces; he was frantic with worry and apart from the deep pit of despair that you left him in, overrun with guilt! What is wrong with you?"

_Shit, my e-mail warranted an actual call from Kate!_

"Kate,I'm sorry, I…"

She interrupts me again, "don't you know how much he loves you? Have you any idea the grief you put him through, I've never seen anyone so broken. I hope he's whipped some sense into you; somebody should put some brains back into your head! I can't believe you did that!"

_Whoa!_ "I know I was…"

She barrels on, "hiding his son from him! I can't believe he took the blame for this for you! I can't believe he still loves you after all of that but there you go, maybe the two of you deserve each other!"

_Boy she's mad!_ There's a small part of me that's happy to be yelled at. It feels right, this is what I deserve and just as I suspected, Christian told his parents that he made me go. _Wow, I'm not sure what to make of that._

"I get it Kate, believe me, and rest assured he doesn't want me back." I guess the finality of my tone grabs her attention because she holds her tongue for a moment. I sit down on the edge of my bed, not trusting my unsteady legs.

"He doesn't?" now she sounds taken aback, "But Grace said that he still had feelings for you."

"No," I say on the verge of tears again, I exhale a long slow, juddering breath.

She whistles through her teeth, "**not** that I agree with him but I wouldn't have believed that you could do anything - **ever** - to put him off." Her introspective lilt is gentler now.

"Well, I did." My mouth twists into a slashed line as I contain the pressure of my emotions behind a flimsy wall of willpower but I can't hide the feelings bleeding through my voice.

"Oh Ana, what were you thinking?" I can almost see her shake her head, mouth in an unhappy, turned down line.

"I don't know. I never foresaw all these… these complications. I obviously didn't think it through. I was panicking. All the time with him, I… I always felt like I was dreaming, like none of it was real, like it was happening to someone else and I was only watching. In the back of my mind I fully expected to go back to the real world at some point in time."

"Jeez Ana, you and that warped self-image of yours! I always knew that you had issues but I never realised how deep it went. What happened to you? How does a beautiful, smart woman become so blind to her own appeal?" she's getting riled again.

My breath stops short as I consider her question. "I don't know." I'm conscious of how lame that sounds but I've just always accepted it as fact about myself, I never questioned it. I was always shy, if I stood out it was because I was so clumsy and bookish - the textbook ugly duckling. It never occurred to me to analyse it.

"Well you should figure it out because it's cost you the world." The blade of her sharp words slices another piece off my already shredded heart but I can't fault her reasoning.

"It has." I agree in a low voice, a defeated slump draped around my shoulders.

"Oh Ana," she says again and sighs, "what are you going to do?" In spite of my misery I don't miss the conciliatory tone and I dare to hope that at least friendly terms with Kate might be a possibility.

"I don't know." Even to my own ears I sound like a broken record but I'm rudderless - no direction, no plan, very little of anything really.

She suddenly perks up as an idea hits her, "have you tried to make him jealous?"

"And then some!" I snort reminding myself how badly that backfired.

_It didn't backfire with Dr Shawn_ my inner goddess quips.

_Neither did it bring us back together_ my subconscious throws back at her.

"Oh." She's dejected, right along with me and it's a great comfort.

"Thank you for calling Kate, I've missed you." I've never felt her absence more keenly. My lip trembles before a sob escapes, setting free the cry that I've been swallowing against for the length of the conversation.

She offers me a wry laugh, "even though I yelled at you?"

"Ye..yes." I manage through the fresh barrage of weeping.

"I wish I could say something to make you feel better, you seem pretty certain it's over and that's bad I know, but it's not the end of the world. You have a son, stay strong for him."

I nod, gnashing my teeth against the unbearable agony of being without Christian mingled with Kate's heart-warming and unexpected compassion.

She senses my distress and grasps that for now, I need time to recompose myself. "I'll let you go now, but we'll catch up okay?"

I'm grateful for her insight, "o… okay," I blurt a hoarse, shaky reply.

_Talk about rough, I feel like I've been in a car wreck._ I fall back onto my bed, arms flung above my head.

The rest of the afternoon mercifully passes without any more crying. I spend it with Chris and Collins stuns us with a suggestion for an outing. I suspect Chris has had enough of the indoors when he bounces around the room yelling _yay_ at the top of his voice.

Collins and Carl drive us to the Olympic Sculpture Park where Chris and I stroll through the amazing and strange creations, playing guessing games about what the abstract ones might be. The guys are unobtrusive, making me forget that they're there and I have fun focussing on my son. I spoil him with some junk food and we eat it sitting on sculpture benches shaped like eyes watching the Father and Son Fountain.

The strong visual of the fountain's theme isn't lost on me and I quash the rising emotion it evokes. _No more wallowing!_

We leave just before sunset but not before we admire the golden light as it starts to dip low and change the whole atmosphere in the park, lending a surreal quality to the art. I pull Chris closer to me and hug him tight, pressing his head into my chest for much longer than he usually lets me before wriggling away. Maybe he senses that his presence and closeness is like a soothing balm for me right now.

After putting Chris to bed I take my iPad to bed to read myself to sleep. I want to keep my ever dwelling mind away from Christian and facing Mrs Taylor tomorrow. Luckily my emotionally wrung-out mind doesn't need much pushing to fall into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Morning brings with it an irrational, unreasonable irritation with Christian for not being here to shield me from a possibly less than welcoming Mrs Taylor. I throw the covers aside and march into the bathroom to shower in a bid to relax.

After getting dressed I put off going into the great room by checking on Chris. He's awake and I crawl into his bed, settling in to read him a long story, even resorting to making up parts but Chris protests my creativity, urging me to stick to the original and much loved plot.

When I run out of time-wasting tactics and Chris starts to grumble about his tummy noises, I take a calming breath and make my way to what I've always thought of as her domain - the kitchen. The smell of pancakes and bacon greets us before we see her deftly flipping a pancake and catching it with the pan.

"Wow, that's neat mommy, did you see that?" Mrs Taylor turns in surprise and Chris' excited blue eyes look expectantly into mine.

I have no choice but to force a cheerful note into my tone. "I did buddy, Mrs Taylor makes the best pancakes." I shyly lift my gaze to hers, hoping to see something other than judgement.

Her open, welcoming smile bursts the protective bubble of reservedness I was prepared to wield in my defence. She comes around the kitchen island, clasping her hands together in delight, "Ana, how lovely to see you! And you must be Chris! You're as cute as a button!" She gently taps Chris on the nose with her index finger, her words thawing the edges of my nervousness but rousing my misgivings.

_I hope Christian didn't lie to her as well!_ I still need to deal with his folks and come clean about the real reason I left, there's no way that I'm rebuilding that relationship on a lie.

"It's lovely to see you too and I believe congratulations are in order **Mrs Taylor**, albeit a bit belated!" I step closer and straight into an awkward moment where we're both unsure if we should hug. We catch each other's hesitant gazes and laugh at our own silliness. It serves as the icebreaker that melts the tension and we embrace like old friends.

It makes me long for my mom and I take a deep breath, clawing back my carefully constructed constraint.

"Thank you Ana, I've made your favourite!" the light in her eyes is so genuine that I can't help being taken in by it.

"And mine!" Chris is standing on his tippy-toes; eyes just above the counter, level with a stack of pancakes that looks golden and fluffy and smells divine. We giggle at his obvious craving, licking his lips in an overdramatic gesture. Mrs Taylor doesn't torture him too long. She lifts him into his high chair and plies him with a helping that would make most grown men cringe. Chris repays her with a gorgeous smile that I'm sure will earn him sly treats from her for the rest of his life.

Before I have time to protest she smiles and winks at me, "every now and then a treat is fine, isn't it mom? As long as we still eat the good stuff!"

Chris doesn't acknowledge the early morning nutritional advice; lips far too busy smacking their pleasure.

I used to feel strange, being served like this in my own home when I was married to Christian but living on my own and constantly cooking and cleaning up after Chris gives me a new appreciation for Gail's housekeeping talents. It's lovely to sit here, sipping a leisurely cup of tea and eating a meal that I didn't prepare.

Thankfully Chris only makes it halfway through his stack before he reluctantly gives up. I boost him out of his chair and he makes a bee-line for his room, refuelled and ready to play. I'm enjoying Gail's account of her romantic wedding, eloping with Taylor to an island paradise when Collins clears his throat behind us. "Good morning Ms Steele, Mrs Taylor."

"Good morning." We chorus together as we turn to face him.

"I have a package here for you Ms Steele, it's been checked, it's safe for you to open." His sombre timbre a harsh reminder of the threat still skulking in our lives, with all that's happened with Christian it's been at the far fringes of my thoughts.

"Thank you Collins," I say taking it to test the weight, already distracted by the beautiful red velvet ribbon.

_I wonder what it is._

Gail clears some space on the counter to accommodate the big box, both of us curious to see what's inside.

"Ooo, maybe a gift from Mr Grey?" Her teasing lilt hinting at her interest and obvious hope for our reconciliation.

"Uhm, no. I don't think so." I head off her budding excitement with the finality in my voice, a rubicund blush spreading its heat. My overstated concentration on opening the box is a desperate scream for her to not to pursue the subject.

Her face falls in a palpable display of disappointment but she doesn't press me any further.

I lift the lid, discovering delicate tissue paper embossed with the Valentino logo. I push my finger underneath the sharp folds of the meeting sides to tear away the seal holding them together. The treasure inside is a stunning deep red, the colour so crisp that it seems saturated.

_Oh my!_

I lift out a dress made of the most delicate of silks, layered with a shimmering, gossamer thin, translucent fabric in the same shade of red that drapes in gorgeous, feminine folds across the bottom half. The slit looks like it goes on forever.

The bodice has a revealingly low V in the front that leads reedy slim straps over the shoulders and onto a barely-there back that plummets to the very edge of modesty.

Mrs Taylor and I stare at it in awe, it's breathtakingly beautiful. "There's more," her low whisper drags my greedy eyes away from the dress and back to the open box.

I reach for a pair of Jimmy Choo, high heel sandals. They match the dress exactly and have uneven criss-crossing straps over the toes as well as the ankle where they go a tad higher than you would expect. I realise that the high ankle straps would look very sexy peeping from that slinky slit. With the crossings of the straps being asymmetrical they have a slight BDSM feel to them.

Gail hands me a small card that I missed in the presence of such extravagant couture, I slide the hand written note from the envelope and feel my heart pound and then slide into my shoes.

_Oh shit, I forgot!_

_Anastasia, _

_This is the best I could do on such short notice ;0) _

_I'm looking forward to tonight._

_I'll pick you up at 6:00pm. _

_Shawn_.

I look up and meet Gail's questioning gaze, my mouth open in a stunned "O". The charity event with Dr Shawn - I never cancelled or confirmed our plans and it completely slipped my mind. Now he's gone to the effort of buying this overgenerous dress for me, even making a little joke about it being "the best he could do" knowing full well that he couldn't do any better, even if he tried.

I suddenly feel panicked and trapped as my eyes dart from her to the note and back again.

"Ana, what's the matter?" her head is tilted to one side and her hand gently strokes down my hair, soothing me.

"I... I forgot, Christian will be mad." If I wasn't so unnerved I'd realise that she wouldn't know what I was talking about but instead she has to prompt me.

"Mad about what, what did you forget dear?"

I hand her the card and she scans it quickly, still not understanding. "Who is Shawn?"

"He's just a friend, actually he is Chris' paediatrician, one that Christian organised for him." my faculties have yet to fire properly, still flustered I give her only one half of the explanation.

She nods and fills out the sentence for me, "and you forgot that you have to go to something with him?"

I nod, biting my lip, "Christian didn't like the idea of me going with him, even though he's just a friend."

"I see. Forgive me for being so forward Ana but you insinuated earlier that you and Christian weren't together, is that right?"

"Yes." I breathe it softly; my mouth still reluctant to speak words that my body hopes isn't true.

"Well then. Really, it isn't up to Mr Grey and as long as you keep yourself and Chris safe I don't see any reason why you shouldn't go if you wanted to."

_Oh the voice of reason!_ If only Christian would see it that way but at the same time I can't lead my life according to the will of Christian Grey, especially since he's not prepared to commit. There are some things that he's just going to have to accept.

"You make it sound so simple but you're right, I should be able to go." I cast a longing look to the designer threads calling to be worn.

"There you go." She pats me on the arm offering me an encouraging smile as she heads off to her duties.

If Grace and Carrick can come here to baby sit Chris - I don't want to push my luck with Christian and take him out of the apartment – then I'll go.

I go looking for Collins and find him in Taylor's office. "Collins, I would like to go to a charity event tonight, I'm happy to take any security you deem necessary and I would like to ask Grace and Carrick to come here to look after Chris. Do we have enough men to cover that scenario?" the note of authority I interject doesn't leave room for negotiation, for good measure I meet his watch directly.

"Uhm, Mr Grey didn't leave instructions for that." he shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

"This is a recent development and as much as I'd like to accommodate Mr Grey, I'm not an errant child for him to control. Can we or can we not do this?"

"Yes, Ms Steele, we're able to accommodate this scenario." A small smile of admiration tugs at the corners of his mouth and I get the sense that he empathises with us, straining under Christian's overbearingness.

"Good, thank you. I will contact the Grey's to see if they're available and I'll get you the details of the event tonight."

As I walk back to make the calls I feel satisfied that I've stuck to Christian's rigorous security parameters, even though I know he won't like me going with Dr Shawn.

A call to Grace leaves her excited to perform her first grandmotherly task but the happy moment doesn't last long as she starts a cautious conversation. "Ana, I spoke to Kate this morning, she told me that you and Christian weren't going to make a go of it and I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I know that the two of you belong together but sometimes things just don't work out, do they?"

I'm relieved that the relationship talk has been taken off my plate and I make a mental note to thank Kate but I still need to tell her the truth about my leaving however, I don't want to do it over the phone. "No Grace, they don't." I mirror her regret.

We're both quietly introspective for a tick before she continues, "so what are your plans for tonight?" her forced cheer doesn't go unnoticed.

"I'm going to a Doctors without Borders Charity event with a friend, actually Chris' paediatrician."

"Dr O'Reily is here in Seattle?" happy surprise colouring her comment.

_Grace knows Dr Shawn?_

"Uhm, yes, for some lectures at a hospital, he's date dropped him so…."

"Oh Ana, he's lovely! I was wondering if Christian got hold of him to see Chris."

I smack myself against the forehead for being so stupid; of course Grace would be the first person Christian will call to get a referral for a good doctor.

"He sure did," I remark wryly.

When I end the call with Grace I fire a text off to Dr Shawn to get the address for the venue and to thank him for the dress.

I get an immediate reply that alters my hesitant excitement into full-blown despair; the event is being held at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel.

Of all the possible places in Seattle it has to be there! Just my rotten luck, I just know that I'll be spending the night battling some powerful memories.

_Too late now,_ comes the very unhelpful remark - compliments of my subconscious and I pull a mental, mocking face at her.

_Urg!_

Once I've relayed the information to Collins I seek out the consoling effect of my son. When Chris and I race to the kitchen for lunch we run into a line of five brawny guys - obviously security - filing into Taylor's study with Collins at the door, shepherding them inside. His thunderous expression is bleak, matching their serious demeanours.

I wonder what's up; surely that's way too many bodies for tonight's excursion.

All through lunch with Gail I make small talk but I'm distracted, stealing furtive glances at the study, waiting for them to emerge so I can ask Collins if something's happened. I gratefully take her up on her offer to keep an eye on Chris this afternoon so I can get ready for tonight when they march out of their meeting.

When Collins comes back from seeing them off I follow him into the study. "What was that all about, and don't tell me nothing, I know trouble when I see it?"

He shifts from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable. "Mr Grey said not to worry you."

"Collins, you must appreciate by now that I don't like being left in the dark. If something has happened, especially relating to this…, this situation of ours," I make an all-encompassing gesture with my hand, "I'd like to know. Please remember that this concerns me and my son."

He blows out a breath, looking resigned he casts his grim look down, "the skipper that keeps an eye on the Grace, Mr McConnell went on board this morning to check on her and she's been trashed."

The low level panic I've been managing quite well suddenly kicks up a few notches.

He holds up a hand to me when I start to speak, indicating that he isn't done, "we're not sure if it's because this person expected you to be on the boat yesterday or if it's a coincidence and the Grace was merely a relatively easy target, but the thing that is becoming clearer is that these incidents are related."

"How can this person know that we were planning on going sailing yesterday? Apart from Christian and myself and Chris, only you and Taylor knew, right?"

"I believe so Ms Steele, personally my gut tells me that the perpetrator is finding it hard to get to his target because of the elevated security so he's being creative, finding things that aren't so heavily guarded to drive his point home, whatever that may be."

"I hope you're right, if this person had access to our private plans…." My words fade, the implications hanging heavily in the air.

"Do you think I should cancel my plans for tonight?"

A startled look flashes across his face before he considers the query. "No, I don't think so." He slowly shakes his head and elaborates, "we have an outstanding relationship with the Fairmont Olympic and the security head there. If you were going anywhere else, I would have insisted you stay but, as it is, precautions will be tight there tonight, a lot of rich and famous attending and you'll still have your own close personal protection."

"And Chris?" I'm frantic for any reassurance he can give me.

"Ms Steele, the incident on the Grace proves that there is no safer place for him than right here. We have the panic room and every angle of this building is covered and secure." He straightens a little, a fiercely protective glint in his eyes revealing the unmistakable pride in his work.

I nod, satisfied and convinced. "Thank you Collins." The note of respect making him stand even taller. "By the way, do you know when Christian will be back?"

"No Ms Steele, not exactly but I expect it will be within the next twenty four hours or so, according to Taylor things are more or less sorted in Seoul."

Late afternoon sees me taking a relaxing bath with Chris in the capable hands of Gail. I don't have much to do for tonight's event, just shave, wash my hair and a little make-up. It's not a date after all. It might even be fun if I can get over the fact that it was in this very hotel that Christian first told me that he loved me.

The recollection sticks painfully in my throat, like a creeper it weaves and binds and twists around me in a way that makes it impossible to separate myself from it. Effectively making me a prisoner of my own memories.

Half an hour before Dr Shawn is due Gail pops into my bedroom and announces the Grey's arrival. I mumble my thanks, hairclips between my lips and struggling to get my hair to behave.

"Here, let me." her eyes bear a maternal look that I can see in the reflection of her behind me where I sit at the dressing table, frustrated with my own fumbling fingers.

I take the clips out of my mouth and watch her expert hands curl and pin tendrils up. "Wow Gail, a woman of many talents. Thank you."

She doesn't say anything, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile.

I make use of the intimate moment with her and ask her outright; "what did Christian tell you about why we parted?"

She keeps her eyes carefully trained on her task and her voice devoid of telling clues, "he didn't say anything and it's not my place to ask."

_Oh!_

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, I just wasn't expecting you to be so, so… welcoming, I thought Christian might have said something."

She catches my eye in the mirror and smiles again, "I'm not judging you if that's what you're asking."

That's all the encouragement I need to unburden my tortured heart to her. "I know I made a mistake leaving him even though I'm certain he would've had a meltdown over the pregnancy, I was so scared he'd do something stupid and ruin everything."

"So you did something stupid instead?" the gentle delivery speaks of her clear understanding of my exact thoughts five years ago. I bob my head in accent, overawed at her simple summary and I feel our timid friendship firm up. I'm glad to have her on side.

"Do you like this doctor?" she asks still working on taking up my hair but I think she knows that the gravity of disobeying Christian weighs heavily on my mind.

"I do but not like that. He's quite a catch though," I grudgingly admit.

"He obviously likes you and you know how Christian can be, just watch yourself Ana, be sure before you leap into anything."

I laugh, getting the message loud and clear, "there'll be no leaping of any sort Mrs Taylor, thank you for the warning."

I stand up and we appraise my look together. The dress is a perfect fit but the design makes it impossible to wear any underwear except for the briefest of low cut panties. The silk clings like cream to my body, creating a painted-on illusion that's softened by the sheer fabric on the bottom half. If I'm honest I'm a little nervous about it staying on, it's seems so delicate, like a gust of wind might blow it right off me.

The sandals give it an edgy look, contrasting with the heady femininity of the deep V on my chest, skimming my breasts precariously close to my nipples - relying solely on the snug fit to maintain my modesty.

"Wow!" Gail looks slightly shocked, eyes round.

"Wow indeed. Do you think it's too much?" I ask, worried now and chewing on my lip.

"No, you look stunning, just a pity that Mr Grey isn't here to see you, I think he might have fainted." We giggle and I grab a throw for my shoulders before I stride to the great room on the towering heels.

Dr Shawn is already there and is chatting animatedly with Grace. They all turn to look at me and suddenly my face catches the flame colour of my dress. I cast my eyes down in response to the embarrassed flush.

Their appreciative murmurs only make me shyer and desperate to escape their scrutiny. Dr Shawn's is openly carnal and I remind myself to reiterate that we're not on a date. He steps closer, into my personal space where I catch his gaze lingering on the creamy flesh of my half exposed breasts before locking onto my mouth that he kisses in greeting.

I thank Grace and Carrick for staying the night to look after Chris even though I expect to be home no later than ten or eleven tonight. On Collins' insistence they'll only be driving home to Bellevue in the morning.

I kiss and cuddle my darling son before Dr Shawn offers me his arm, leading me away. Cinderella to the ball or maybe a lamb to the slaughter…


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you as always for your valuable feedback. Some of you have your private messaging function disabled so I'm unable to reply to your reviews. The same goes for the folks that sign in as guests, nonetheless, to all a big THANK YOU. Please don't forget to review; your feedback is what keeps me writing. I hope you enjoy this one…**

Chapter 17

Dr Shawn leans over to me, speaking close to my ear. "You look gorgeous Anastasia," the growling whisper leaves little doubt in my mind, no matter what he says, that he thinks of this as a date.

"I hope you're not going back on your word," I tut, "we're just friends remember? This isn't a date." I keep my tone light, playful even but I'm hoping that reminding him will be enough to keep him in his place.

He avoids commenting and deftly changes tract, "so where's the possessive ex tonight? I was half expecting him to wait for me, shotgun in hand." His remark is dry but the twist of resentment is unmistakable.

I smile at the thought of angry, jealous Christian – intimidating as the image can be it's also smoking hot. At least it shows he cares. "He's in Seoul, on business." My tone doesn't brook further discussion.

On the elevator ride down to the basement where we're to meet the security for the evening I reflect on how gutsy it was of Dr Shawn to show up here after last time's heated encounter, not trying to avoid Christian. Brave or plain stupid, I'm not sure.

When we reach the basement I'm greeted by a shiny, stretch limo - compliments of the hot Doc for the evening. Carl is smiling from ear to ear, not only is it big enough to accommodate our two man entourage but it's bullet proof as well. Dr Shawn has outdone himself. _Fifty will be pleased! _

_As pleased as he can be with you gallivanting around the city with a man he told you to stay away from!_ My subconscious is scowling at me and mentally I narrow my eyes at her in warning.

I catch Carl and the second security officer I have yet to be introduced to, arguing about who gets to drive. It seems Carl's superiority secures him the driving rights and he turns to me, an uncharacteristic grin on his face. "Ms Steele, this is Brandon. He'll be our second pair of eyes and ears tonight."

Dr Shawn shakes hands with both men and motions for me to climb in. After I smile my hello I slip into the back seat. On the short drive to the Fairmont I allow myself a tiny thrill. I haven't had an over-the-top evening like this in a long time. I look forward to a bit of glitz and glamour.

The Fairmont doesn't disappoint. Its old-school luxury screams classic elegance and as we glide our way up the Grand Staircase to the Garden room, I get swept up in the excitement. The terraced event room is filled with vibrant lush plants and boasts a running waterfall creating a magical sound that compliments the soft, lazy tinkling of the grand piano in one corner.

One entire side, running the length of the room is made up of floor to ceiling Palladian windows that lead off to a romantic, open air balcony. The seductive, winking lights of the velvet Seattle night serving as the perfect backdrop.

The round tables are decorated with crisp white tablecloths, white plates and masses of white flowers creating achromatic havens of tranquillity amongst the riotous colours of the flowers and foliage of the plants in the room.

It's spectacular, offering a little justification for the extravagant $4000.00 per plate charge. Dr Shawn is the consummate host - an attentive gentleman - taking my wrap, pulling my chair out and offering champagne. He excuses himself to greet some benefactors and colleagues and I happily wave him away, content to be on my own.

Idly I watch the room fill as I sip my chilled bubbles. The women mingling reminds me of bright, bold paint strokes against the sober, understated tuxedos of the men and I notice that Dr Shawn holds the monopoly on looks for the evening - drawing longing female gazes in his wake as he makes his rounds.

His tall frame is easy to spot around the room and I enjoy watching him wooing, wheeling and dealing. To my great amusement I realise that the heavy charm he's laid on me isn't exclusively for me and I feel a little relieved. Good thing I didn't fall for him, imagine being in love with a pathological flirt - and an outrageous one at that.

I begin to relax, secure in the knowledge that his flirtatious ways are just who he is and grateful that I won't have to fight him off to protect my virtue. I entertain myself by spotting celebrities and making small talk with the other guests around our table until he joins us again.

Soon the liveried waiters deliver the entrees with a well-practiced grace and the conversation dims down to a low hum. It signals the arrival of the speeches with Dr Shawn's being the first. He strolls, in that laidback way of his up to the lectern, already in command of the room, ordering every woman's head to turn.

I have to stifle a giggle at their rapt attention, knowing full well that I'm under that same spell when it's Christian's turn, speaking passionately about a topic close to his heart. My mind does what I suppose every other female's mind would do in my shoes and draws a comparison between these two fine specimens of maleness.

The sinful, edgy beauty of Christian – sleek, strong, hard and intense with an undercurrent that is undeniably sex and power contrasting with Dr Shawn's rugged, towering outdoors look. Sensual yet casual, a smidgen of wild and unkept that only ads to his approachable appeal. Both men arrogant and comfortable in their own skin, excelling in their careers and obviously used to getting their way in all things – calling to that part in every woman that craves a **real man**.

I try not to dwell on how lucky I was to have had that with Christian, maybe one day I'll be ready to put myself out there again but I'm fairly sure that it will never be quite like it was with Christian.

Dr Shawn finishes his speech to an appreciative house, many people making their way to the front to congratulate him - a lot of them woman - ready to steal a kiss disguised as salutations. By the time he reaches our table the main meal is served and the chatter turns from business to pleasure as the guests start to unwind and enjoy themselves.

By 9:00pm I'm desperate to talk to Grace and find out if all went well with Chris. I've already checked my phone countless times throughout the evening, careful not to miss any calls but it's been silent and now, I can't stand it anymore.

With my wrap around my shoulders to ward off the cool night breeze I step onto the dark balcony. It's beautiful, the outside echoing the design from the inside. Large potted shrubs and small trees are randomly dotted along the length of the marble tiled floor reminiscent of a maze. It creates private corners from which to admire the view or for a romantic tryst. Collins and Brandon are on either side of me but tucked into the far corners, well out of my way.

I make my call and am ridiculously grateful when she answers after only two rings, "Hi Ana, checking up on us?" it's not said with malice, just the friendly ribbing that can only be done by another mother who's shared a similar pang of worry for her child's wellbeing in the care of relative strangers.

I smile, at ease at once and play along, "absolutely, I know how much grandparents like to spoil the little pups, it's all ice-cream and late nights with you."

"Oh Ana, he's a delight. We've had a wonderful time, thank you for trusting us with him." her joy is tainted with the wistfulness of time lost.

I can kick myself, the growing awareness of the importance of telling them the truth is a stain overpowering the small step toward wholeness I'm trying to take. I'm going to hate hurting them like that. I wish them a good night and lean onto the balustrade, looking deep into the inky night, the prospect weighing heavily on my conscience.

Dr Shawn's Irish lilt puts me back in the moment. "Ana, I've been looking for you. I hope you're not hiding from me."

I smile and move to face him, "No, just getting some air."

"I know what you mean, I hate these things but it's a necessary evil – schmooze with the money if I ever want to reach my goal." He explains.

I giggle, "Schmooze?"

"Ay, it's my new word. It's perfect, very descriptive." His delivery is dry, punctuating his dislike.

I nod my agreement, still smiling, "so what's this big goal then?"

He turns pensive for a moment before he answers, "have you ever been to Africa Ana?"

I just shake my head, a tad embarrassed by my poorly travelled status. Thankfully the dark hides the tell-tale pink patches on my cheeks.

"It's wonderful and wild and magical but it's also harsh. So many sick and hungry people, the poorest of the poor. Countries embroiled in age-old famines with corrupt governments pocketing every last cent destined for aid and relief. It's heartbreaking." He leans forward, bending at the waist and rests his elbows on the balustrade, his gaze far away, in another place. "You have all these aid agencies trying to make a difference: UNICEF, UNHR, WFP, WHO, UN, Oxfam, Doctors without Borders and hundreds more, some of them with access to fantastic resources but still, aid trickles to those who need it most."

None of what he's saying is news to me but I guess that the west has become jaded with the world's poverty issues. I glance around, suddenly feeling awkward and ashamed of the splendour and opulence we find ourselves in.

He sees my discomfort and nods, understanding because he shares the same infliction. "What I would love to do is fund a range of supply centres, placed in strategic, accessible cities across Africa, maybe five or six, stocked with food and medical supplies, centralising the supply of donations. The aid agencies on the ground, who run the camps and clinics could draw from these when needed, cutting out the need for monetary monitoring and eliminating the endless, time wasting red tape."

"Wow!" I breathe in admiration, "That's amazing, quite the vision you've got there."

He turns his body to mine, still leaning on the rail, those emerald eyes lit with his passion but marred by the regretful line of his mouth. "Therein lies the problem, it's just a vision and as much as it's a noble one, it doesn't feed the hungry or heal the sick until it's a reality." He looks away, ponderous again.

"Ah, I get it. Money makes the world go round." This is something I know from my own personal experience, not nearly on that scale but still.

"Clever and beautiful," he says and sweeps a fly tendril behind my ear, brushing my cheek along the way. "Ay, lots and lots of cash." I note that his good humour seemed to have returned somewhat in spite of the weighty subject. "Even after the personal funds I've poured into it."

My eyes widen in surprise at his admission. He obviously has money and if he's willing to use his own to fund something like this, I think it's admirable but his tender caress has me nervous and I draw my wrap a little tighter around my shoulders.

My show of nerves sparks a salacious, carnal smile that leaves his eyes glimmering with hunger. I swallow hard, my muscles tensing for my inevitable refusal but I still have hope that it won't come to that.

"So a lot then," I say to keep to the unsexy topic of poverty.

"Yes," he murmurs and nodding slowly, "like the type of money your ex has."

My body stiffens at his words and his unashamed watch as he regards me with renewed interest. "What's up with the two of you? I see the way he looks at you – like a starving wolf."

I snort, "I don't think so." My statement is thick with scorn.

"He told me to stay away, that you and Chris belong to him." he continues to keep a searching eye on me, digging and probing.

_Ah, that's what Christian spat at him when he was leaving Escala._

My mouth responds with a rueful turn. "I suppose that's true."

A puzzling V burrows into his forehead, "you told me that you weren't together yet you stay with him in his apartment but when he's away you come out with me."

I give him a testing look, "I didn't know he'd be away when I said I'd consider coming with you and you made a point of telling me that I would be doing you a favour, as a friend."

He holds up his palms in surrender and grins. It's hard to stay mad at him. "So what's with the possession thing? Don't get me wrong, if you were mine I'd be insanely jealous, I might not ever let you leave the house." The grin turns into a naughty smirk.

I roll my eyes, "he's no right to be jealous, we aren't together but that doesn't make me any less his. I belong to him because he has my heart." I want to cry at the truth of my words, burning with longing for my love to be requited.

It's his turn to look taken aback, "you want him and he doesn't want you? Is he blind?" The space between us suddenly crackles to life, the light in his eyes turns dark as his body curves to mine. His back is against the rail and he's taken me with him, snaking a strong arm around my waist and pulling me close enough to feel the heat radiating from his solid body. "I bet I could change your mind," he growls at me and slips his free hand into my hair, leaving his thumb resting just in front of my ear.

"I bet I could make you forget," his gaze is locked into mine and I shake my head, trying to step out of his steel hold.

I'm not scared, just really annoyed_ - I guess I was wrong about him after all. _

I catch movement in the corner of my eye, it's Collins getting ready to intervene but he stops abruptly and before I can process the possible reason, Dr Shawn opens his mouth a fraction and determinately bears down on mine.

I raise my hands to shove his chest. "I said **no**!" My voice is unwavering, clear and just as I'm about to lift my knee to his already straining groin another arm dives between us, gripping like an iron vice just below my breasts while something fast dashes past my head and delivers a swift, sure punch with the practiced ease of a prize fighter on Dr Shawn's surprised face.

"I warned you to leave her the fuck alone!" Christian's menacing growl splits the silence of the night while Dr Shawn's head judders to one side as he stumbles back, finally releasing me. My feet barley touch the ground as Christian throws me over his shoulder and stalks off, our security team scuttling to keep up.

Only then does my brain register what just happened, my heart still beating wildly and shock keeping me mute. It doesn't take long for the indignation of being carried like a sack of potatoes begins to burn me. "Put me down! You have no right to do this! Let me go!" I kick my legs and struggle against his grip.

Christian slides me down his body and sets me back on my feet. I cocoon myself in my wrap and glare at him, "I was handling that! I don't need you to come charging to the rescue," I wave a frantic hand through the air, "I'm not some weak damsel in distress!" Hot lust licks at my belly at the sight of him in his tailored tux, his grey eyes boring into mine. Like water and oil it frustratingly opposes the cold fury of my resentment.

I notice that we're in a guest restricted corridor of the hotel, somewhere in the bowels of the building. The ping of the arriving service elevator behind my back makes me jump in surprise and Christian spins me by the shoulders, marching me inside along with Collins and Brandon. I shrug his hands off and face him again, impatiently waiting for his answer.

"I know," he says, regarding me with a small smile, "it's just that I've been waiting for a reason to punch that fucker ever since I saw him salivating over you and Chris in my apartment."

I gasp, stunned at his response but also because there's no trace of anger in his eyes. They glow gently, following every curve of my face and I'm trapped in it, knowing that I shouldn't let it affect me but unable to help myself.

The elevator stops on the eleventh floor and his look takes on a darker turn. I get the impression that he's waiting for me to catch on to his game but I'm lost. He takes me by the elbow and steers me towards a suite, still watching my every move until it hits me. Not a suite but the suite, the Cascade suite – our suite.

I wrench my elbow out of his clasp and stop dead in the corridor not bothering to curb my sudden tears, "What are you doing? Why did you bring me here?" It's a plaintive, breathless plea.

He sweeps a hand through his hair, bewilderment then irritation flashes across his face. "For the love of all things holy will you please go into the fucking room? I don't want to make a scene out here." He says though we're alone. The security team has melted away, leaving him barking his orders at me. "We never got to finish talking about your contract." His tone only mildly tempered now.

"What?" I stare at him, incredulous. "I don't think I have the stomach for the rest of that conversation." I shake my head, already backing away with what must be a look of panic in my eyes but if it's closure he's after I can give him that. "The truth is that I don't blame you, not one bit. I understand what I did was deplorable and unforgivable but I can't talk about it anymore." My head drops in a dejected slump, the familiar burn of tears hits the back of my throat and I will myself to fight it.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have left you like I did." A curled finger lifts my chin in order to meet his concerned gaze.

"It's fine, I'm fine. It's just… I can't do this anymore." I've resorted to begging as I whisper these words to him.

He straightens abruptly, almost standing at attention as formal Christian appears, "Anastasia, I'm asking you for five minutes, thereafter you're free to go."

I eye him dubiously, weighing my options but guilt wins out and I follow him meekly into the suite that's filled with so many bitter-sweet memories.

The fire is lit like it was that night but instead of warmth it brings a chill to my soul that I try to dispel with my ineffective wrap. I throw the lose end over my shoulder like a scarf.

Christian offers me a drink and motions me to a chair. I wish I could take my shoes off and curl into the sumptuous stuffing but I sit demurely waiting for him to say his piece. This is all too familiar by now as weariness drapes my body in an unnatural pose.

When he hands me a glass I slug it back in one go, not tasting a thing. I feel it travel down my throat and along my limbs.

Christian takes his own seat and I presume, searches for a way to start. "The contract, did you consider the implications of what you're offering?"

I glare at him mutinously, _is he really expecting me to relive that moment of utter vulnerability and rejection?_ By the stern slant of his face I garner my answer and resign myself to a further five minutes of humiliation.

"Look, the contract wasn't meant to be taken that literally - not that there's anything in there that I wouldn't do," I clarify quickly and check to see if I've earned his ire, "but the point was to show you that I understood where our problems lie and that I was so sure that I wouldn't leave again that I didn't need the right to that choice anymore." I shrug my shoulders miserably, my voice turning low and uncertain, "I…, I thought that if I left the power to terminate the relationship with you, you might reconsider your previous standpoint." I look down as the crimson shame steals across my features and I worry my lip with my teeth to distract myself from the awful disgrace I feel vibrating off me.

I can sense his eyes on me but I'm not brave enough to meet his slate watch. "So there you have it, it was silly, I know. I hope I've given you the closure you needed." I push myself up and turn to go.

"Anastasia," I close my eyes against the sound of my name on his lips, desperately willing it to become meaningless, "I wasn't looking for closure." I hear him making his way to me, stopping at my back and placing his hands on my shoulders to halt my exit.

I sigh, "What do you want Christian?" I don't move but angle my head to be in profile to him.

I feel his warm breath on my cheek as he speaks, his words carefully measured. "We were just about to take off in Seoul when I learnt from Taylor that you were planning to come here tonight - with **him**," I can hear the scornful note in his spitting remark.

"I was angry. So fucking angry Anastasia, furious beyond reason." His grip tightens on my tensing shoulders. The ferocity of his emotion evokes the image of a madman, a man way past logic and sense and control and it sends an involuntary shudder racing down my neck.

"At the time I was busy reading an e-mail from Kate, chewing me out for rejecting you after the countless times I wished to have you back." Those words suddenly have my whole being invested in the conversation, every cell of my body listening intently. "It was clear that the two of you spoke but in the light of how inconclusively we left things just before I flew to Seoul, I didn't understand why she thought we were finished."

_What's more conclusive than no? _

He pauses for a moment, awareness of him prickles across my skin as my lungs labour to draw a proper breath.

_Where is he going with this?_

"The whole flight I thought of little else. What the fuck you were up to with him and about what you told Kate. Then it occurred to me, how you could have heard my last words and I felt your pain, hating that I was responsible for it."

My brow knits together, "I don't understand."

"I came here, straight off the plane to get you. I was about to put the doctor straight when I heard you. I heard what you told him and I knew I was right."

I pivot around slowly, my head tilted up to search his face, "right about what?"

He gently sweeps the ringlets curling down my chest back over my shoulders, concentrating on his effort like it's a vital part of our conversation. "You said that you belonged to me because I had your heart." When his ash gaze locks into mine his eyes turn darker, fervent.

I'm still confused; _surely this can't be news to him._

"I knew then you didn't want to be with him." He takes a breath before he continues, "Anastasia, when I said I didn't want you as my girlfriend it wasn't because I didn't want you at all." He's running his fingertips rhythmically along my arm in hypnotic strokes while the other claims my wrist. His three middle fingers resting in the hollow of my pulse, as if to reassure himself of my vitality.

"I could never go back to being something less when I once had you completely. That's why I wanted to discuss the contract - negotiate?" his questioning brow has me nodding my head.

_Negotiate how?_

I feel a little off-balance, dizzy even from the lack of oxygen but I'm so completely, wholly immersed in his eyes and his mesmerizing words that I've no capacity for even the most rote of tasks – insignificant things such as breathing.

His silky whisper reverberates through me, reaching the deepest part of my being. "I wanted to know if you would consider amending the contract, instead of being my girlfriend, would you consider being my wife?"

My startled inhalation finally brings with it a gush of oxygen, rushing to my stupefied brain and generating only one coherent thought: _please don't let this be a dream._

Christian anticipates the effect of the oxygen surge, his strapping hold has me anchored to his body, his right hand cradling the column of my neck beneath my hair, the left urging into the small of my back well before even I realise I'm close to fainting. My eyelids flutter as I wait for my head to stop swimming. My legs find their footing again and when I manage to open my eyes, I find grey pools of adoring affection, a look that's more than capable of stealing my sanity.

_OH MY!_

My lips part to accommodate both accelerated breathing and talking but I only master a gasp – in awe, in shock, in revelation. He's smirking, acutely aware and by the looks of it, very pleased about the effect he's having on me. He leans into me, running his nose along mine. "So, are the terms negotiable Anastasia?"

I feel his lips brush my cheek then follow a path down to my jaw. My body unconsciously yields to his touch, arching my back to open my neck for him, receptive and oh so willing. "Yes," it's a voiceless breath and I shiver from his ministrations as well as the wrap slipping gently off my shoulders and slithering to the floor.

He doesn't stop his fervent trail, kissing and nipping softly when he asks, "Yes what? You'll be my wife or yes, the contract is negotiable."

I don't know how he's able to concentrate on anything right now yet I feel him smile against my neck, teasing my incoherentness. I close my eyes in an effort to block out some of the engulfing sensations in order to get a handle on my faculties, "both," I'm powerless to improve on my last, single-word sentence.

He stills, drawing away from me ever so slowly, his focus on me a force in itself. "Where do I sign?"

The smile spreading over my lips and into my eyes is unmeasurably wide and grateful - elated. I obviously don't have the contract with me but an idea floats gently into my head. I place my hand over my heart, the low cut of the dress allowing me to put it directly onto my skin, "here," I say, willing him to make the connection to lipstick lines drawn over no-go zones.

His gaze follows my hand and he inhales sharply, the implication filtering through. He slides his hand over mine, his fingers slipping between mine before curling them into a hold and pulling it away. At the same time he reaches for the other hand and steps back, taking stock of the dress. It's the first time he gets an eye-full of the top that was hidden beneath the wrap.

As his eyes sweep up and down my body, I see in them a spark of anger coupled with a fire so hot I think it's fuelling my blush. "Is this the dress he bought you?" he's using that soft, guarded voice, the one that almost always precedes the loss of his temper. Naturally I don't even blink at the fact that he knows that Dr Shawn sent me a dress.

I offer him a solemn nod, not willing to risk igniting his incense with words. My heart is beating a frantic rhythm as he continues to let his watch roam the outline of the dress. Finally he lifts his eyes, looking at me from under his lashes with a lazy smile that drips with revenge and passion. "I. Can. Not. Wait. To take the pleasure of being the one to tear it off you." His erotic promise leaves me shivering and faint.

He watches me, enjoying my reaction as his words sink in then turns on his heel, bearing to the desk in the corner of the room. He rummages in the drawer and when he finds what he's looking for he strides back to me.

He uncaps a black, felt-tip marker in permanent ink, a mischievous grin stealing over his delicious mouth. I can smell the chemicals that make up the ink as he brings it closer, deciding how to angle his approach. He chooses to start at the bottom and write his way across my heart over the swell of my breast. He signs his full name, the black scroll staying in the wake of his writing, carelessly leaving a stain on the dress. It's so loaded with significance for us that my heart clenches along with my thighs, the slickness becoming impossible to ignore.

Again he steps away, admiring his work. "There. It's done. Signed and sealed." With storm grey eyes drilling mine he regards me carefully - like me, he craves the reassurance of our fresh and fragile union. "You. Are. Mine." His possessive authority resonating with my memories of those words.

I skim the side of his face and he leans into my touch. "Always," I breathe, "in the past, the present and the future - body and soul."

This moment is more real to me than anything has ever been and I'm burning with the awareness of my sincerity and unwavering commitment to this man. I don't feel like an onlooker, viewing the fairy tale from the outside - I'm part of it, part of him. For the first time I feel that I deserve to be here, maybe because I fought so hard for the honour.

An overwhelming need to tell him crashes over me like a breaking wave, "I love you." _Worship you, adore you, revere you, crave you_ – I want to say all of it but not one seems adequate to measure the depth of my feeling for him. I feel it oozing out of me, emotions storming to be expressed but I fail to find the words.

Christians senses the change in our bubble and he closes his eyes, head back with lips parted he bathes in the swirl, drinking it in like it's essential for his survival. He draws a long breath as his eyelids lift to reveal a scorching desire. "I'm going to kiss you now." It only leaves a millisecond for me to process this before his mouth crushes mine.

There is nothing tentative about the way he kisses me, devouring my lips and tongue with a primal greed. All I can do against the force of it is to give in. His hands roam wildly over my naked back, easily slipping under the rim of the dress skimming my behind and the delicate lace of my tiny panties.

The low growl he makes sends my senses in overdrive. He cups both cheeks, pressing my body into his so I can feel his growing need.

"Ah," I gasp into his mouth, I'm not sure how long I can still stand; weeks - no years of denied passion leaving me a quivering, wanton mess – on the verge of orgasm with a single kiss.

When Christian breaks our contact his eyes are cloudy, unfocussed by intense desire, almost like he's drugged and we're both breathing hard. "Ana." He shakes his head, also seemingly at a loss for words.

When he regains a measure of his control his focus turns to my dress, a wicked smile warning me of what's to come. He bends to take a closer look at his signature and gently blows on his name to ensure the ink is dry. The sudden cool breath chase goose bumps across my skin, making my nipples strain against the snug silk.

He skates the back of a single knuckle over the hard tip making me convulse. It's clear that he likes this reaction and he tries to elicit another one. He laves across the smooth fabric, swirling his tongue around the stiff point. When it's thoroughly wet, he stands back to review his feat. The dress is moulded to my nipple, revealing even the tiniest bump. He's inordinately pleased with himself and I'm riveted watching him bend to blow on the wetness again. His saliva goes ice cold, the nipple rock hard and he bites on the bud, the delicious pain darting straight to my groin.

"Aahh," I moan. I can't believe how close I am. One more of those and I'll be screaming my release.

"I know baby, hang in there." He's still so powerfully in charge of my body.

He straightens and brushes four fingers from the base of my neck to the well of the deep dipped neckline of the dress, between my breasts. He slips two knuckles-deep under the edge of the silk and repeats this process with the other hand. He shifts his hold so that both hands rest on either side of the V. He pauses for a beat before I feel his fingers tense with a stronger grip. He rips the dress right down to my navel and his hand travels along the revealed path, skimming my shivering, heated skin all the way.

When he reaches the new edge he tears it again, ripping it in two. He wears a roguish grin as he pins me with an intense, victorious gaze. "Shrug," comes his hoarse command.

I obey with a gentle roll of my shoulders, the remains of the dress glide down my body, whispering along the way. Naked now except for the low cut panties, I suffer a pang of nerves, this is the first time he's seen my body since I've had Chris. I bite my lip and register the spectacular flush exploding across me features.

I'm rewarded by his hard inhalation and big, round eyes. "Fuck Anastasia," he's still fully dressed but seems eager now to rectify that oversight. "I might let you keep the shoes," he says as he makes a start on his bow tie. He tugs at the end, unravelling it along with my senses. Dextrously he opens the top three buttons of his shirt before he pulls it out of his pants. His eyes never leave mine as he steps out of his shoes and rids himself of his socks.

"You're going to have to make certain allowances tonight," a crooked, sheepish smile licks at his mouth.

I nod, "anything," thinking that he's talking about our relationship.

"It's…., been a long time," he's stalking toward me, unfastening the rest of his buttons before he balls the crisp white shirt and throws it onto a corner.

My pulse leaps at the sight of him and I lick my lips, I can't quite piece together what he's trying to say. I'm too distracted by the view, desperate to get my hands on his naked skin. I bop my head a second time in an effort to rush him as I reach for his chest, sliding my hands across his defined pectorals. I revel in the firmness, combing my nails through his chest hair, loving the way he responds to my touch when I hear him drag in a fast breath.

He closes his eyes, savouring the contact. "This is going to be quick and hard baby, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to control myself."

I halt my roaming hands and gape at him in shock, blinking startled eyes. My pelvic muscles clench in response, loving the thought of amorous Christian, falling to pieces in his need for my body.

"Not that I think it will be a problem, it doesn't look like it will take much to push you over the edge…" his teasing tone and wolfish smirk alone has me shuddering - as usual his assessment is devastatingly accurate. I would be annoyed at how easy my body succumbs to him but I can think of nothing but my trembling muscles so close to climax.

He cocks his head to one side, eyes glowing their hunger, "do you want me Ana?"

My mouth is bone dry, I barley manage the "yes" I force out but I long to do the same to him, make him burn for me with words. I reach for his belt that I undo and slip it out of the loops. When I open his fly button I look into his eyes, breathing my own flaming terms, "only you, it's only ever been you."

His pants pools at his feet and he grabs me roughly, using both arms to secure me to his length. Another all-consuming kiss leaves me reeling while I hold on to his flexed biceps for support as he grinds his impressive bulge into my panty clad folds.

_Fuck!_

I want to climb inside him - possess him, be possessed. I curve my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his hips. He takes my weight as if it's nothing and he backs me up against the wall.

"Let's see how you're doing," he says still licking into my mouth. His back arcs to accommodate his exploration while his hips hold me in place. Pulling aside my panties he sinks an urgent finger into me, his thumb flicking over my clitoris and I come undone. Juddering and shaking around him. I feel like I leave my own body and then forcibly slam back into it.

"Aaaaahhhh!" it's a primitive moan, excluding everything but the stunning sensation. Christian groans along with me, into my open mouth.

When my eyes finally resume their focus they come to rest on the face of a man close to the edge. "I love to watch you come Anastasia." His voice is chocked with desire. He withdraws a slippery finger and greedily stuffs it into his mouth. When he's had his fill of my taste he pushes the wet digit into my mouth. I groan my acceptance and suck, wanting nothing more than to do this to something else.

I wriggle my behind, into his hand cupping me there as I find my legs again. I push him away with a flat hand on the unforgiving slab of his abdomen. I smile encouragingly into his stare and he backs away. I slip my eager fingers under the boxer's waistband and draw a slow circle around the rim before hooking my thumbs over to drag them down. He springs free, the swelling alarming and arousing at once.

I go down with the undies and watch his reaction through my lashes as I lick across his tip. He's pupils have eclipsed the grey of his eyes but stays riveted to my tongue on his straining flesh. The thrill chugs through me like a freight train and I take him in, right to the back of my throat. He thrusts into the movement, humming deep and low.

"Ana, I…" but I interrupt him with my mouth going harder, faster, wetter. He cups my head in reply. His mouth is a ferocious snarl as he bites down, neck muscles corded with the effort to hold back the barrelling pleasure. I grip one buttock to maintain my relentless rhythm and apply the other to his balls, fondling and squeezing gently.

I soak up the sound of his ancient cry as he pulses an obscene amount of scorching, thick fluid down my throat. For a moment I sense him losing his balance but he steps back to correct himself and pulls me up, rather roughly by my upper arm.

"Holy fuck Ana, that was…." He shakes his head in amazement, our gazes glued together.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, sharing his awe but not nearly sated for his touch and by the look of things, neither is he. "I know," my wide-eyed expression mirroring his. _I also felt the earth move._ When I rake my teeth over my lip he protests by sealing his mouth over mine, this time with a slow sensuality hinting at reverential love. He tucks me against his form, encasing me in his arms so that our connection can spark from every point of skin-to-skin contact.

His kiss turns chaste then breaks away; looking at me with love so much I catch my breath. He picks me up – superman style and I giggle. "Now," he grumbles, "I really want to make use of that IUD.


	18. Chapter 18

**I hope all husbands and boyfriends are accounted for this weekend! (BLUSH) Thank you for the reviews, I love to hear from you all! Whether you're a regular contributor or a silent reader I'd still like to hear from you X**

Chapter 18

_Oh my!_

"We're spending the night here. I've already let my parents know not to expect us back. You don't have to worry about Chris."

_Oh!_ The arrogance of his assumption doesn't annoy me - instead it serves as proof of his thoughtfulness though, I worry about leaving with one man and coming home with another. I push the thought away, eager to indulge in a bit of Mr Grey.

"Thank you." I fling my arms around his neck, beyond ecstatic and smile at him, cramming every bit of joy I feel into it. This suite that I could hardly bear to enter into an hour ago has now become the perfect place for our reunion.

His answering grin is scorching, completely in tune with the hunger in his eyes and his impatient erection. Again I catch my breath, thrilled to my core when his low tone washes over me, "you're a rare beauty Anastasia, I cannot wait to be inside you. I've clung to the memory of what you feel like around me." He runs the back of his hand down my cheek, then lovingly traces the line of my jaw with a knuckle.

Those fevered words ratchet my desire to unbearable levels and when he throws me onto the bed with a predatory glint in the steel of his stare, I feel like it's Christmas – only I'm overwhelmed by choice. Not sure what toy I want to play with first, greedy to get my hands on as much as possible of his flesh.

He crawls up, between my legs where he stops to rid me of my sodden panties. He slings it away carelessly, his ogling eyes never leaving the naked place they covered. He continues to stare, licking his lips - obviously beyond aroused by the sight but there's nothing to hide my intimate folds and I feel exposed, squirming and certain that my blush reaches all the way down there.

He takes his sweet, torturous time - luxuriating in his private viewing activity. He makes no move to touch me but the ravenous mould of his face is pushing me to run up the steps of desire, taking them three at a time. I shift in needy response.

He growls, low in his chest while he grips my inner thighs, pushing them apart. "Keep still or I'll make you." I gasp at his provocative threat and on pure instinct and raw desire my hips tilt up by their own accord, crazy in its need for any contact. His hands slip around, cupping my backside as he pushes his nose into my sex, inhaling deeply.

_Oh my fucking my!_

"Christian please," I moan, begging for more.

When he comes away I catch his gaze. His eyes look unfocussed - cross-eyed with lust. "I've missed you, I've missed you so much." His expression a strange blend of pain and elation, whispered words born of desperate need. He swiftly stretches to cover my body with his, kissing me wildly. He raids my mouth mercilessly, our arms and legs tangling and writhing, taking in the exquisite pleasure of intimate contact.

He rolls taking me with him and we pause for air, our breaths mingling and faces flushed. With my body on top of his I stroke my hand over the sprinkling of stubble, reacquainting myself with every curve and dip of his face. "You are so precious, thank you for taking another chance on me."

Another low hum is his reply and he closes his eyes as my gratitude sluices over him - clearly striking a cord. "Come here." It's a carnal command but I don't understand and I raise an unsure brow. _Where does he want me to go, I'm already here?_

"Come, sit here, on my chest." He pats his sternum. His silky voice is dripping with erotic promise.

I scoot up, eager to find out what passionate delight he has in store for me. It only takes a second for me to grasp the nature of the deeply intimate act he has in mind and I gnaw at my lip, my coyness getting the better of me.

My legs are bent with my knees resting on either side of his head. My bottom sits on his chest, taking my weight which leaves my secret opening utterly gaping and vulnerable, not to mention very close to his sinful mouth. I can feel his breath on me, fluttering and making my heart stutter.

His affirmative nod is unhurried but no less compelling, it says that I won't dare deny him this pleasure. With his eyes securely fastened to mine his intent is unwavering and unaffected by my modesty. His sure hands move around and grip my backside firmly, holding me in place. I get a sense of how easy it will be for him to control my pelvic movements from this position and it stirs me, being in his power like this.

With my head bowed forward, the loose tendrils of my hair spill over my shoulders and cover my breasts; only the hard tips of my nipples are peeking from between the strands. His eyes linger on them for a moment before he presses me onto his mouth.

"Aahh," I moan falling forward from the exquisite relief of his touch. I brace myself on rigid arms, my hands flat on the bed just above his head. He takes full advantage of my breasts so close to his face, clamping a hot mouth over the bud and sucking hard.

I shudder and mewl in ecstasy. When I try to right myself to sit up again; he bites down before letting me go. This delight sends my back arching and pelvis thrusting forward, playing straight into his waiting tongue's hand.

Avaricious velvet licks at me with long wet strokes and I lose all reason, focussing fiercely on that one tiny spot of overriding pleasure. His tongue slips inside me and my body tenses at the unexpected intrusion before avidly relaxing into it, slicking in response.

He usually likes to watch me react to his ministrations but now his eyes are closed and rapture is what I read on his face. It's such a turn on, I can barely watch through my heavy lids for fear of spontaneous combustion.

The shallow penetration of his smooth tongue is doubly erotic because I can watch his face contorted with pleasure while he's devouring me. He breaks the contact and gently blows on my sensitive, heated flesh, cooling but not calming. I whimper, violent desire slamming into me.

"Touch yourself Anastasia, touch your breasts. I want to see you." If I wasn't so close to him I wouldn't have heard him, his voice is raw and strained.

This is so intimate, so hot, so very Christian and I want nothing more than to please him. I reach for my breasts and cup them. I knead and squeeze and hear his appreciative groan. It spurs me on and I run my hands all over my chest and breasts, pushing them together before I start on my nipples.

He spears me with his tongue but his eyes are on me, following every swipe and swirl of my hands. I push myself onto his strong tongue. His eyes crinkle at the corners, indicating a smile at my eagerness. When he flexes his tongue I pinch my nipples – hard and gasp. I can feel the orgasm building, my body awash with sexy sensation.

"Eyes open Ana!" he growls as his hands grip harder on the soft muscle of my buttocks. Then he licks me over the length of my sex, finding my swollen clitoris and the spiralling begins, spinning like a top. My lids are almost drawn but I keep my eyes trained on him until I can't anymore as my back arcs and my head lash, screaming his name in release.

When I open my eyes I'm flat on my back and Christian is poised over me, lying between my legs as an urgent erection prods for attention at my entrance. I'm still breathing hard and very dazed, coming down from my explosive climax. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and rims me with an exploring finger to check for lubrication. He obviously likes what he finds, "Oh Ana!" it's almost a sob and I swallow his cry with my mouth as he plunges into me, right to the hilt.

We moan together and our union is complete. Immediately he starts to move, his strokes long and hard - unerring. His hands curl into my hair, pinning my head in place. His zealous desire is driving him on and I revel in him getting lost in me. He angles his hips, impatient to feel the length of me. We lock our gazes, twin expressions of reverential love and wonder on display for one another.

In moments like these our connection is so strong, so deep I realise why I sometimes think it must be fantasy. Even here, right now it's hard to believe that love can burn so bright, so hot but I choose to trust my senses, showing me this beautiful man, unravelling in the pleasure of being with me.

Watching him I climb again, emotional and physical stimulation colliding to bring me to the cliff again where I pause for a second. He senses my body start its telling tremble. He kisses me roughly before he commands, "come for me baby." I obey and fall – spectacularly, clenching around him, strengthening our lush friction and clawing at his sweat slick back.

Christian takes his cue, "thank fuck!" he spits through a gritted jaw, emptying himself into my depths. Eyes closed he kisses my inner thigh, next to his ear then gently unhooks my leg. He wraps me in his arms, but doesn't withdraw when he rolls us onto our sides.

With languid bodies and tangled limbs we lie facing each other and silently marvel at our dazzling reunion - sated for now. It's an age before I dare to pierce the glow with speaking.

"Chri…" I start but he kisses me quiet.

"I wan…" again his lips eat my words and I giggle.

"I know what you want to say." he kisses my cheek, the corner of my mouth and my chin. "I don't want to hear it." The tip of my nose is next, followed by my eyebrow. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, it's over, we're together." Now he's kissing my temple and trails back down to my mouth where he deepens the kiss.

He anticipates my apology like he can read my mind, grasping that my guilt still makes me feel unworthy. I can't help feeling like I have so much to make up for. I make a mental note to apply myself to coming up with ways to show him how much I regret our separation and how much I love and trust him.

When he's certain that I'm reassured he breaks away. He brushes the hair off my face, "you hungry?" his gaze is soft with love.

I grin, glad that I can tell him yes and bat my eyelashes coquettishly at him, "starving!"

His expression is the picture of excitement, taking joy in the simple pleasure of looking after me by feeding my body. "I'll call room service. While we wait we can take a shower."

When he finishes the call he spanks my dozing behind, "up you get sleepyhead." I watch him walk away, it's the first time I get an opportunity to have a good look at him. He's in magnificent shape and at least ten pounds heavier but it's all pure muscle – flexing and cording tantalizingly as he moves. He's obviously working out more. _Yummee, I'm a lucky, lucky girl._

I pad across the room to the bathroom and join him in the cascading water. I'm grateful for the steam that hides my shy blush at being so naked in front of him. I don't know if I'll ever be as comfortable in my skin as he is. He doesn't turn immediately and I get a fantastic view of the perfect triangle of his back. Both hands are in his hair massaging shampoo into his scalp, making his biceps bulge and my satiety disappears along with my shyness.

I move right up to his back and run my hands along his sculpted form, easily gliding around the slick curves. I can't resist grabbing his firm behind and he spins around, shocked by my brazenness but smiling. He catches my wrist and steps forward while pulling me close. His eyes switch from glowing to stormy in a heartbeat and he nudges my sex with his leg that's wedged between mine. "You want more Ana?"

His words are always inflammatory but the tone is the things that liquefies my insides and my eyes flutter closed, so drawn to him, so needy. When I open them again I enjoy watching him get knocked askew by the profound need he sees in their depths.

He makes a feral, guttural sound and in an instant he's on me, driving me back against the wall and kissing me with an urgency that leaves us both winded. His mouth is all over my face, kissing, sucking, licking, biting – he's ferocious in his attack. His hands mirror his lips, plundering every inch of my skin he can reach, rubbing, moulding, scorching. I reciprocate as hard and as fast as I can, never more grateful that he tolerates my touch.

His lips make it to my ear, nipping and licking me closer to the building quake inside of me. "Jeez Ana, I can't get enough of you, I can never get e-fucking-nough!" His arms circle my hips, lifting my buttocks.

I take the not so subtle hint and band my legs around him. "Yes!" I hiss my demand. Without preamble he fills me, pounding hard and I take every thick slide of him drilling me to the slippery tiles.

A tenacious finger dives between us, quickening my clitoris with expert pressure. My senses are so overwhelmed all I can do is hold on for the inevitable shattering. His head bends to my chest where his tongue swipes across the ink - worshipping his name, written these as a sign of his possession. The shower's done very little to diminish the script and watching him adoring our bond like that must be one of the most intimate, erotic things I've ever seen, my sex contracts in an adulating spasm.

He answers with a growl and skates his lips over to my breast, first milking then biting my nipple sending compounding darts to my groin and it's all I can take. I splinter into a million pieces, forgetting myself, only aware of him pulsing wildly inside me.

_Holy cow! Was it always like this? So intense?_ I rake my memories while we catch our breaths, his face in my neck with my arms holding him there. He helps me stand then spends long moments looking at me like he's seeing me for the first time. He pushes back my hair, his fingers finding and releasing hairpins as they go before he starts washing it, massaging my head with his glorious strong fingers.

The look in his eyes has me by the throat, his touch is exquisite but I'm worried that he's suddenly so quiet. "Christian what's wrong?" I ask, looking to meet his gaze.

He keeps his focus trained on his hands working my scalp and takes a steeling breath. "I'm overcome Ana, you have me under siege."

_Honest and romantic, what more can a girl want?_ My heart jams with emotion for him, packed full – _I feel the same way._

I decide there and then not to sully our new union with mind games and reservations. I want to give him the gift of certainty. "I feel the same way, I lose myself in you and it scares me too but I'd rather be scared than without you." I place my palm on the side of his face, gentling him to look at me. "I love you Christian Grey – with everything I have."

My words seem to drive the fear from his mind and I'm rewarded with his full HD smile before he crushes me to him, kissing the top of my head. "Come, let me feed you." I love that he's accepting my words. There was a time when he would refuse to believe that he was worth loving. We've both grown in so many ways.

We slip on fluffy white robes and Christian waits while I twist my hair in a towel. He takes my hand and we share a besotted look before we head to the lounge, ditching the idea of the formal table for dinner. His beauty still manages to amaze me but it's his unexpected tender nature that never fails to blow my mind.

It comes as no surprise that the food is stunning. Christian's ordered a wide selection of entrees and we taste a little of everything, savouring our way through the meal. While we eat we slip effortlessly into chatting. Christian tells me about his trip to Seoul and he seems pleased with the outcome even though the whole ordeal sounds insanely stressful however, you would never say it looking at the fantastically handsome and relaxed man in front of me. Mmmmmhhhhh…..

My lips tug into a smile which he instantly answers with a questioning brow, probably because of the rosy flush accompanying it. I drop my watch as my teeth find my lip. His fingers are quick to release it, pinching it gently away. He cocks his head, amused. "Don't do that, you know what it does to me," he grumbles. "Rather tell me what you're thinking about?" his husky invitation curls my toes.

I can't supress my grin or face his smirk as his grey eyes brighten with mirth. "I was uhm…, thinking about your uhm…, impressive performance earlier."

"Impressive huh? I'm glad you enjoyed it Anastasia." His smirk has turned downright dirty now, wringing out every ounce of my awe and loving it. "Maybe, if you're lucky," he quirks a brow, "you can have a repeat performance."

_No! Surely not!_

He laughs out loud at my big, stunned eyes nearly popping out of my head. "We aim to please Anastasia." He shrugs his shoulders casually, still so smug that the words cat and cream comes to mind. "I told you, it's been a while."

Now that the issue has come up the question is burning a hole in my brain. I clamp my mouth shut in protest but I'm dying to know.

My effort doesn't go unnoticed and he laughs again, mercifully it's good-natured. "Is there something you want to ask me Ana?"

_Some things never change_! I fume - I'm still an open book to him.

"No!" I say a little too loudly, his teasing has made it impossible to ask with dignity so I try my best to look unruffled, concentrating on my food instead.

Without warning Christian drops everything he's doing and dashes up only to crouch in front of me. A beseeching look has replaced the playful one from a second ago and I feel my pulse jumping with unease.

_Uh-oh._

"Anastasia, listen to me." Big hands curl around my upper arms, the laser focus of his slate eyes beam into me and the stern line of his brow is serious, urgent. "I don't ever want that to happen again. I don't ever want to see you too scared or uncomfortable to ask me something. I don't care what it is." It's a heart gripping plea - unrelenting, unflinching. "I'm not losing you again."

"I… I'm sorry." I choke out, wanting to injure myself. _Wow, that has to be a personal best for me. It only took me what, three hours to screw up?_

He chides me with a shake of his head, "don't be sorry baby, talk to me. Please."

I suck in some air. _Okay, take a good look at what's happening here,_ I will myself. He's still terrified. As realisation filters through my natural instinct to blame myself for everything, I see an opportunity. I wanted to show him how much I care and regret what happened so here's my chance. I have to hit him with the large doses of the reassurance that he still needs.

"You're right, I'm sorry." Hiding my thoughts and feelings had become second nature to me as I walked around as broken as I was.

"There are so many things I want to ask you, so many things we still need to work out but we have time and apart from the urgent stuff we'll catch up along the way. I promise you I won't run. I don't want you living your life in fear of what I might do."

He sits down on the thick carpet and pulls me off the couch, onto his lap. "We'll get there baby, we need to learn to trust each other again. I want you to communicate with me and I'll try to be as forthcoming as I can."

I lodge my head under his chin, my ear to his heart. It's a place that's always brought me serenity, my body's rhythm recognizing and melding with its destined mate's. I sense that he's waiting for me to start talking but I can't help being a little apprehensive, some answers I might not want to hear.

After a breath and a swallow I start. "How long has it been?" I slip my arm around his back with the other, gently combing through his chest hair. It's easier not to see his face and hide mine at the same time.

"I can't give you exact dates but about two, two-and-a-half-years."

I keep my body as still as possible, I don't want to react in any way that might jeopardise his obliging exchange of information.

_Christian Grey, insatiable sex beast has not had sex in over two years! Holy freakin' cow!_

There's no way I can deny that I'm thrilled, ecstatic even but I wonder at what price his chastity came.

I venture further into the enigmatic and private head of Christian Grey, encouraged by his last answer. "Did you have another romantic relationship after I left?"

His snort is an ugly one - derisive, "uh, no." it's as clear and definitive as a girl can hope for. I'm about to leave it there for the moment but he continues and I sit quietly, hoping that he'll never stop talking.

"After you left there was no one for a long time, I was desperately trying to find you and when I did, to make contact with you." I draw my knees further up. Making myself smaller as the familiar shame tears through me. Christian doesn't seem to notice. He's taken the towel off my head, absentmindedly pulling his long fingers through my damp hair.

"When I finally got it through my head that it was over, shortly after you had Chris, I tried to forget about you. I tried so hard." His hurt is threading through my veins as if it's my own.

I straighten, turning to face him. There's something I have to get off my chest, "I did that to you, you should be so mad at me!" it's my turn to plead with him, still not understanding why he's not hell bent on punishing me.

"Are you going to start that again Ana?" he spits at me, eyes fuming.

_Hey presto! You wanted him angry! _– The sarcasm from my subconscious is extremely unwelcome right now.

"What do you want? Do you want me to be mad, to yell? Hit you, what? What would it take to get you to back off from this subject? It. Is. Over!"

_Oh boy, he is mad._

In the spirit of your new open communication policy I confess: "I don't know, I just want you to understand how sorry I am. Please don't be mad. I'm sorry." My eyes brim with tears and I hold my finger to his lips before kissing them for good measure. "Don't be mad at me, not tonight."

"Believe me Ana, I know. I feel the same." He laces his fingers through mine, holding my hand then kissing the back of it.

The desperate lilt scratches at the raw places on my heart. It reminds me that we may never overcome his self-loathing issues. The thing is; I'm not holding anything against him. Maybe I should take him at his word and accept that he's doing the same for me. We're both in the same boat. We can't function apart but we're terrified of being hurt.

He interrupts my revelation, "you get how confusing you are right?" he casts me a dubious look and I answer him with a questioning one.

_Huh?_

"You tell me to be mad at you then beg me not to be."

_Oh yeah_, I see what he means and because I don't want him to withdraw and I don't want to fight, I make light of it. "I'm a girl, I can't be held responsible for the mysterious ways my mind works." I give him my best bimbo flutter.

He sighs, his mouth tugging into a smile that he tries valiantly to curb.

I kiss him again, "I didn't mean to interrupt you. Please, continue."

Thank goodness for his mercurial ways. He tucks me back under his chin and strokes my back with his fingertips.

After a beat or two he restarts. "I first sought out Elena." He hugs me closer when he feels my body stiffen at the mention of her name. "I hadn't seen her since that night, on my birthday but I thought maybe - because of our history - she could help me."

I close my eyes, wishing I could fast forward through this part. _Please, please, please don't tell me you slept with her – anyone else is fine, just not her._

"It was a mistake. She… repulsed me. It was a shock." He says darkly and I let out a surreptitious breath.

_Hallelujah!_

"I was angry. At you, at my birthmother, at myself – the whole world and the urge to beat the crap out of something came back with a vengeance. I lined up a few subs, hard-core girls that I usually wouldn't see. Girls that were known on the scene for enjoying heavy punishment." His tone has gone eerily flat.

My heart has stammered into my throat, blocking my airway. Fear's cold fingers are cooling my skin. _I drove him to violence._

"And I gave them what they were after. Fuck!" the note of surprise in his voice is unsettling, like he wasn't aware of what he did until now. "I beat the crap out of them." Regret is seeping from his dark declaration.

He loses himself for a while, maybe choosing his words before he resumes in his quiet way. "Nothing helped. Not one bit and I just hated myself more." He releases a long winding breath and scrubs a hand over his face. "Eventually I gave up. I started seeing Bastille twice a day, hit the gym over weekends and ran. I ran like I could outrun your shadow in my head."

It explains why his body is in such great shape but every twist and turn of his tales leaves me more remorseful, gutting me open a little wider each time. The only consolation I have is that I've suffered the same.

I hear him take a fortifying breath, "what about you Ana? Anyone in your life?"

I'm taken aback by his question, doesn't Mr Stalker know everything? "You honestly don't know?"

His hands stills on my back and he humphs, "I know what my reports on you say but it's impossible to cover every moment and detail. I would only know if you dated someone. Single dates and one-night-stands might be harder to uncover."

I'm happy about the news I can give him. I know that my abstinence will go a long way to prove my words of contrition. "No Christian, not even a single date. Dr Shawn was the closest it got and like I said before, I only saw him as a friend."

I revel in the hug he folds me in as he kisses my hair. "Mine." He breathes simply.

I hug back – hard and close my eyes against the hopelessness I felt over the weekend, thinking that we were over. "I was beginning to lose hope - that you may never take me back and then after I gave you my contract…."

"I know baby. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight, things in Seoul were a real mess." He sighs, "I really did want to discuss it with you but it wasn't something I was prepared to do via e-mail, especially being as distracted as I was." He shifts so I lift my head off his chest and our eyes find each other.

He kisses my lips ever so softly before boring into me again, searching the depths of my soul.

"What made you change your mind? It's obvious that you're still scared." I drop my head as the rose blooms over my face but he lifts it back to lock our gazes.

"Apart from the contract and seeing that you were finally sure about what you wanted, I didn't want to lose any more time. What's the point? I was fighting it with everything I had and you just decimated it, like it was nothing. I think if I was honest with myself I knew that I'd take you back that very first day I ran into you."

I gasp, experiencing his words like a blow and I decide to share the feeling as I punch him on his arm. "What? Of all the cruel…" I don't get to finish as his mouth slants over mine, coaxing it open to slip his tongue inside, licking my protest away.

"Come, it's late. Let's get you to bed for round four, then I'll let you sleep." My belly flutters. His honeyed voice brings a stickiness to my thighs that I'm only too happy to indulge.

He pulls the cover off the bed and I drop my robe, turning the summer rain in his eyes to storm in an instant. "I need this one slow baby." He says as he stalks me, his readiness evident. A tantalising shiver urges me to give myself willingly to his demand.

My naked body wakes up in a tangle of sheets and an empty bed. Images of the previous night tease my mind and I replay the sensual film in my head. Wow, no wonder my body feels so well used. I turn to my outstretched arm that's splayed over Christian's side and something catches the light – sparkling bright, like a mirror bathed in sun.

I blink before I realise that the sparkle is coming from my hand. My sex dazed brain struggles to figure out what it is so I lift my hand for closer inspection and lose my breath.

On my finger I'm wearing an enormous diamond ring. I'm no expert but I'm guessing three carats of brilliant cut diamond, nestled in the centre of an infinity sign that's made up of platinum bands studded with tiny diamonds. How did I forget that Christian gave me this last night – or rather early morning?

A deep V borrows into my forehead as I try to recall what happened after Christian made slow, beautiful love to me. I remember my lax body only having enough energy to turn into his inviting spoon before promptly falling asleep in his arms. There's nothing about a ring.

I'm a hundred and ten percent sure that I would've remembered. Did he slip it onto my finger while I was sleeping so that I could wake up to the surprise? My heart and belly flip over as my thought rings true, that sounds exactly like something he'd do.

Excitement bubbles in my veins and I jump out of bed, eager to show my appreciation. I hold a sheet to my chest and hunt for my romantic man. I find him fully dressed, looking delicious and on the phone.

He turns, sensing my presence, "…and the legislation in Vegas?"

His look sends shockwaves pulsing through my body. He's eyes locks onto the ring on my hand that's clutching the sheet in place before slowly sweeping his gaze down and up, finally finding my delighted but coy stare.

"Yes, that's fine. Tonight then. Thanks." He ends the call and drops the phone having lost all interest in it as he directs his full attention to me. I feel myself warm and unfurl under his steamy adoration.

With fluid grace he closes the distance between us, His full mouth arranged in a sinfully sexy grin. "Wow baby, you look hot wearing my ring and little else." A soft rumble deep inside his throat and lingering kisses on my shoulder has me panting. All thoughts of thanking him vanish as he pries my fingers from the sheet, leaving it billowing to the floor.

His hands run the length of my sides - from the sides of my breasts to the flare of my hips. "I think breakfast can wait," he purrs seductively.

I couldn't agree more.


	19. Chapter 19

**It seems that the last chapter was well received – thank you so much for that. I can't stress enough how motivating your continued reviews are. THANK YOU! Please be kind and review…. **

Chapter 19

He walks me backwards, slowly and into the bedroom until I feel the bed behind me. He drops more kisses on my heated skin, everywhere except my mouth. My lips part as the soft moans escape, I'm eager for him to swallow them.

I become aware of the distance between us, his body is bowed forward, worshipping mine with surprisingly chaste kisses but nothing else is in contact. I glimpse my sanity for a small second and reach up to pull him closer. Lightning fast hands move to restrain me, catching both wrists and folding them away, securely behind my back.

"If you touch me this will all be over way too quickly." His gravely mutter ensures my sanity's full disappearance and a creaminess between my legs.

"Aaahh, please touch me," the need in my whisper is akin to begging. _Boy, it doesn't take much for me to become a needy mess._

"Tell me what you want Ana." Nothing makes me hotter than his seductive voice commanding, coaching or teasing me, just hearing it sends a powerful shiver vibrating through me.

As my nipples contract into tiny hard points of longing I struggle against his hold. "I want you."

His grip flexes and tightens and then he smiles against my chest. "I was hoping for some specifics but you know how much I like it when you resist me." His voice is low, almost humming as he wipes his sandy stubble softly around my breasts, insolently – as if he knows that I can't break free and make him go where I want him to.

I struggle some more, this time a little harder, putting the weight of my body behind it and decide to play him at his own game. "I want you to lick me." I speak slowly, enunciating every syllable. "Lick my nipples and bite them – hard."

He sucks in a hard breath that I reward with another attempt to free my hands. "I want your hand to trail down my breasts, my belly and find out how ready I am for you." Even to my own ears I sound husky, deprived.

Frustratingly, he's still fully dressed. He doesn't let go of my hands but his hot mouth finds the tight bud on my breast. He flicks his tongue over it and blows softly so it's as taut as it will go only to leave it and move on to its twin. I mewl my protest and arch my back, offering them to him.

A hungry growl lets me know that I'm on the right track. He nips at the tip, just enough to drive my desire deeper. "Take off your shirt; I want to see you."

He leaves just enough space between us for him to undo each of his buttons and the sight of his gaze traveling the length of my body is so sexy that I temporarily forget to resist his hard grip.

He tugs his shirt off his shoulder and then deftly switches hands so as not to break his hold on my arms and to shrug off the other sleeve. I take my cue and thrash about, knowing that I'm in the power of his weaker hand now.

I break free, turn to make a run for it but of course I'm way too slow. Like a supple panther he pounces, capturing me around my waist and flings me onto the bed, face down. My excited squeal is followed by his growl, "arms up!" He stalks after me, over my back to secure me with the entire length of his firm body.

I immediately comply, stretching my arms above my head and grabbing hold of the ornate metal spokes in the headboard. Blood is pounding in my ears, the flush of arousal glowing on my skin. "Good girl." His breath is coming as quick as mine.

One denim clad knee is pushing up between my legs and it's mate is resting just outside my thigh. His weight is supported on his elbows so that he's close to me. I feel him moving and hovering over my back, mere inches away but he doesn't make contact. The sensation is sublime; I feel his breath on me as well as the aura of energy and heat radiating from him. Every sense I have is screaming for attention but he's luxuriating in torturing me.

I writhe underneath him, pushing my sex against his knee to entice him. "Please, I want to feel you stretch me."

Another low hum from his throat has tingles racing wildly up and down my spine. His tongue traces the goose bumps on my back and one hand snakes beneath me, finding my wet folds and the swollen parts therein. The sensation rocks through my body and I cry out his name.

"Let me hear you baby." It's a hoarse whisper close to my ear before he sinks a long finger into me.

"Christian please, I need you." I'm way past being too shy to plead.

"You never disappoint Anastasia, feel how wet you are for me." He rubs my slickness between my folds and over my clitoris then pulls his hand from underneath me. I hear rather than see him brush his wet hand past his nose, inhaling deeply. "I love the way you smell."

Every muscle I have contracts deliciously, urgently, greedily. I feel him fumble at my behind and I'm relieved when I realise he's undoing his fly. "Don't let go baby," he reminds me gruffly.

I mewl once more from desperation and grind my sex into his knee. "Hold on baby, not long to go." Strong hands bracket my hips and lift them up so I'm on my knees with my butt in the air. My chest is flat on the bed; hands still gripping the headboard like my life depends on it. His breathless words of encouragement only make me want him more.

I feel him position himself at my entrance where he gently rubs his erection along the slippery length of me. "You are so beautiful." His fingers flex around my hips and then he slams into me, the force rocking me forward.

"Yyyyeeessss!" the sound is ripped from my throat, raw and unedited.

He swivels his hips before withdrawing and tunnelling back in. My lids fall heavy over my eyes, a sheen of perspiration slicks my skin as my body welcomes the stretch. His hand skates around my hip and onto my sex. His skilled fingers drawing small circles on my clitoris, matching it with the rhythm in his long, measured strokes.

In no time at all the desire's escalated to a knife's edge, his command cutting the bonds holding back my release, "come for me baby!" And I do, loud and wet and joyously, right along with him.

We collapse on the bed, him on top of me. He rains reverential kisses on my neck, my cheek and my temple while he gently kneads my shoulders and upper arms now that I've released the headboard.

"We're going to kill each other." I mumble sleepily. I've already lost count of the past ten hours orgasms.

I feel his grin against my face, "I hope so Anastasia, I hope so." After a beat he adds, more gently this time, "we have a lot to make up for."

He rolls off me, "turn around baby." I do so under duress, my body heavy and lazy in its sated state. He lifts his buttocks and rids himself of his jeans. I giggle at how hot we get for each other, not even enough time to get undressed properly.

"Something amusing you baby?" his cocked brow and devastating smile tells me he knows why I'm so giggly. He sits up and straddles my waist, a devilish smile kissing his lips as he clocks my shocked reaction – _again?_ "Relax, I'll give you a moment to recover," he teases. "I just wanted to do your front." With that he leans forward and massages the front of my shoulders and down my arms.

As always his touch is heavenly and made more so by the fact that my heart is so filled with love for him that it hurts. I guess he sees it in my eyes because he stops his kneading and just stares back at me. "I. Love. You." I say without any reservation, pouring my whole soul into the statement.

His eyes turn a dark slate and he swallows hard. He holds up open palms for me to take and I willingly thread my hands through his. "And I love you Anastasia. So much that it doesn't seem enough just to say it."

His body bows over mine, like in prayer and his mouth finds mine. A gentle, slow and deep kiss that underscores his words perfectly. As the kiss grows longer he straightens himself, along my length. I part my legs for him to settle into. The burning sensuality of it curls and twists around my body and in my very being. Moments later our bodies join again in a slow and exquisite dance to nirvana.

He doesn't allow a break in our precious contact for even a second; his pace remains adoring, as if he's afraid that harsh movement will shatter the spell. Our hands are still clasped together above my head. It's just the two of us, revelling in our possession of each other, entwined in love.

Because of his leisurely pace my orgasm sneaks up on me. My only warning is Christian's subtle change in tempo before it tears though me with a violence that stuns my senses. My primal scream is straight into his mouth still slanted over mine.

A beat later he pulses inside me, jerking his own ecstasy before banding his arms around me in a way that makes me sure that he'll never let go.

_Holy hell!_ If I thought that Christian and I have made love before, I was wrong.

That has to be one of the single most intense and fulfilling moments of my life. It's turned me inside out, stripped me bare. Woven an irrevocable connection that I'll carry with me for as long as I live.

"Thank you." More words that seem inadequate but I'm compelled to say something, I feel the need to acknowledge it somehow.

"We aim to please." His reply is quiet, spoken into my neck but the undertone has the same awe that I'm overcome with. Both of us deeply affected.

He untangles himself from me and curls up, resting his head low on my belly. His arm flung over my hips and my hand forages in his hair, stroking the silky strands. We lie in a contented silence, for now, too open to talk.

Christian is the first to voice the depth of his emotion and his whispered words strike me as immeasurably significant, "I'm glad you're back." It holds volumes of the last five year's yearnings.

Following the experience we just shared, it brings every choking feeling rushing to the surface, gripping me with a cruel and twisting, suffocating guilt.

Christian instantly senses the dark turn in my emotion, "hush baby," he hugs me closer, "don't do that."

Hot tears trip down, dripping onto the pillow while I grind my teeth against the pain, holding back the swell of the tide threatening to swamp me. I couldn't say anything even if I wanted to.

Long minutes pass where I focus solely on finding my recent joy. I get a strong sense that I won't be able to process this on my own. As soon as I can, I'll find someone - a councillor or a therapist - someone to help me work through these issues. I refuse to let them wreak more havoc in our lives. I'm not going to wait for Christian to keep me to the letter of our contract, I'll do it without prompting because that's how I'll save us from me.

I'm grateful for Christian's instinctive sense. He just holds me, reassuringly. He's quiet strength and support unspoken but no less evident. When my mood begins to lift I see his shoulders release their strain and I realise how worried he is for my wellbeing.

Eager to get us back onto safer ground he swipes a hand over my pubic bone and cups my sex, "I like this."

I giggle, a rose flush blooming over my skin. I'm relieved that he's playful, not drilling me about why I'm freshly waxed. It dawns on me that hearing what I said to Dr Shawn last night might have laid that ghost to rest.

"Did it hurt?"

"The wax? It was torture!" I mumble and fling my arm over my eyes, deeply shy but I've come to understand that these are exactly the type of conversations he likes to have with me, intrusively intimate, eager to feed on every minute detail about me. I humour him - grudgingly.

"I'm sorry." He says grinning and plants a soft kiss on my lips as though it were my mouth.

_Jeez!_ Shivers chase each other up my spine, bringing heat to the surface and stoke my rosy glow into a full, fiery blush.

He chuckles quietly to himself. "I love that blush." His pushed himself up, resting on his elbows so he can get a better look and I groan in response, beginning to feel desperate for a sheet to cover my nakedness. The room is filled with glorious natural light, not even a shadow to hide in. I'm not brave enough to watch him so I screw my eyes tight.

He runs a finger along the pink scar that tells the tale of Chris' birth. "And this, did this hurt?" the playful tone is all but gone, a new sombre note sounding in its place.

"No, not really. It hurt much more that I couldn't share it with you." That oppressive tightness is back in my chest, making my breath falter.

"Maybe it's a good thing I wasn't there. I had your medical records pulled after you told my folks about Chris' birth the other day." Now it's his turn to avoid my gaze as I lift my head, shocked that he has access to private medical information. His stalking knows no bounds!

"The report says that things were pretty shaky there for a while, that both of you were in grave danger." He rests his head on my belly, looking into the distance. He anchors an arm around my waist, securing himself to me. "I don't know how I would've handled that."

I lie back again and brush my fingertips over his shoulder and the part of his back that I can reach. I enjoy the inherently manly combination of hard muscle under velvet skin while I try to bring him back to me. "It wasn't as bad as that." _Was it?_

But when I think of overprotective, anxious Fifty, I know that it would've been pure hell for him. "I had a great doctor and we're fine - fit and healthy. A little scar and a beautiful son to show for it." Hopefully he can hear my smile.

He turns to me, lifting his head off my body to find my eyes. "The report also said that there was no permanent damage and that you should be able to conceive again."

"Uhm…. yes. Ah, it's not something I've really thought about." I say dryly. A sibling for Chris has never been on the agenda. I always knew that no man would ever take Christian's place so there was little point in thinking about the possibility.

He narrows his eyes at me, searching for I'm not sure what then drops the subject. "Your body has changed." He unfolds himself so that his head is next to mine and he's lying on his side.

I suck in some air, on the verge of mortification again. _Is that good or bad?_

An expert hand sweeps slowly over the swell of my breasts, "these are so full and lush."

The slavish response of my body pushes my shoulders back to make them even bigger and Christian groans his appreciation before he buries his head between them.

I close my eyes and clasp him to my chest. I can already feel his adoration bringing me out of my shell. I want to be attractive for him. I want to bring him every joy - I want to be his everything.

"I thought you were an ass-man Mr Grey." I tease him to lighten the mood that suddenly feels very heavy again.

He looks up, amusement sparking in his hooded gaze, "I'm an Anastasia man." He grumbles. He pinches a hopeful nipple and drops a kiss on his faded signature that's still scrawled across my chest. "And I like this," he says looking at his bold script and tracing it with his finger. "Maybe I should get a tattoo artist in here and make it permanent. Mark you so every man will know that you belong to me."

I'm not sure if he's joking or not so I giggle nervously before I remember the way he did mark me. I hold up my hand. "You did mark me." Beaming, I show him his diamond promise on my ring finger and kiss it. "It shows the world that I'm yours. That's what I came to say to you before I was so rudely interrupted in the lounge." I kiss his full mouth. "Thank you Christian."

I fully expect him to devour me again but he's too keen to get my feedback, "so you like it?" it's a timid question – showing me the shy boyish side of him that's so eager to please.

"Apart from the fact that it's stunning, it's from you. I love it like I love you." I roll onto my side to look at him; I want to show him how serious I am.

His smile is broad and lights his eyes with sheer joy, all I can do is mirror it straight back. We're two, grinning lunatics - besotted.

"Did you see the inscription?" he sees my surprise and tenderly takes my hand, slipping the ring off my finger. Something in the mischievous curve of his mouth tells me that it's not going to be conventional. He holds it up for me to read and I see a single word, a word that sums up our entire relationship and everything we feel for one another:

**Mine.**

It has deep and personal significance for us. Something that we whispered to each other on so many occasions. I love that it works both ways, I'm his and he is mine but also the ring belongs to me, as the wearer it is mine – a symbol of my commitment to him and the right I gave up when I promised I would never again leave the relationship.

Tears of joy begin to shimmer in my eyes then spill quietly down my cheeks. "It's perfect." My voice is trembling with wonder. I hold out my hand for him to return it to its rightful place, our gazes locked and awed at the naked emotion overflowing from within. Our arms and legs intuitively wrap us in a full body embrace, crushing in its intensity.

_How can one girl be this lucky - or happy?_

He's given me so much - again! I'm getting that same feeling of being overwhelmed by his incredible generosity and the sheer size of our connection but I stop myself. I'm not going to go down that road again so I decide to change the way I handle it. Instead of feeling unworthy I'll give him something in return.

I tighten my grip, pulling him even closer to me, "I want you to know that I have changed - am changing. I want to be exactly what you need, every day for the rest of our lives. I still have a lot of things that I need to deal with so I'll be seeing a therapist or something from now on, as long as it takes."

He pulls away, his face is drawn with lines of concern, "Anastasia, you are what I need." He runs his hand through my hair and tucks it back, behind my ear.

"Please don't worry," I kiss the V of his frown. "I have to; I don't want to doubt what we have because I'm insecure. I said I would in the contract but I just wanted to tell you that I'm doing it because I don't want to screw this up."

His concern melts away and he kisses the tip of my nose, "okay." He hugs me again and tucks me into the crook of his arm while he lies on his back. I snuggle my head on his chest, my emotional balance restored.

_Wow_, I think. It's been quite a morning. Emotional and physically demanding and it's only 11:00am. I suddenly realise how hungry I am.

"You're hungry," he says, "let me feed you baby." He reads my mind and gives me a smile that leaves my belly feeling like a giant flock of birds just flew through it.

We don the obligatory white hotel robes and hold hands walking to the breakfast trolley in the dining area. I smile at the thought of it standing here for the last two hours – ignored.

Christian sees my smile and answers it looking a little sheepish, "I can get them to send up a fresh one if you like."

"NO! I'm too hungry to wait. Thank you." I say again and push myself up on my toes to give him a peck on his cheek. He looks ridiculously pleased.

We talk while we eat and even though the pancakes and bacon is cold, it's delicious.

"Can I ask you something?" I can't help feeling a slight nervous hesitation.

He pins me with a dark look, "are you trying to make my palm twitch Anastasia? I told you, anything and everything is on the table, up for discussion."

I suck in a shocked breath and blush hard and fast, a brilliant scarlet. "Uhm… no… I'm sorry." My gaze drops to my plate and in true submissive style I bow my head - contrite.

It's Christian's turn to be stunned and when me speaks my sex clenches violently in recollection of some very pleasant memories. "I see you haven't forgotten your place."

Suddenly the atmosphere around us is charged with a wicked sexual energy like just before a thunder storm and I risk a peek at him to see if he feels it too.

His watch is Dominant Christian's – hot, severe, commanding but most of all hungry.

_Holy shit that's smokin'!_

I'm doe eyed, trapped in his stare and bite down on my lip, powerless against the fresh desire licking at my groin. I'm taken aback with how much I've missed my Dom.

The moment he swipes his thumb over my lower lip to free it his watch cools and he finds himself again. With a tiny shake of his head the Dom disappears. When he sees my confusion and hurt at being rejected he quickly explains, "this is still too new baby." He reaches for my arm and pulls me onto his lap. "We have plenty of time; let's get to know each other again before we start with the kinky fuckery." Both his hands rake though my hair, holding my head in place. Sincere eyes are boring into mine.

When I don't reply he continues, "It's been too long for me Anastasia and the last time I played the Dom I was furious. We both know that's not what you want."

I feel the blood slipping from my body, turning my skin unusually pale. I concentrate on a spot on his chest and absentmindedly tunnel my hand under the sleeve of his gown to stroke his arm.

"I need to regain my control. Last night and this morning just proved how being with you just demolishes it." He flicks his hand through the air in a shooing motion.

I know I shouldn't, but being the reason for Christian's loss of sexual control makes me feel ecstatically happy. I hide my euphoria by hugging him but inside I'm bubbling with joy.

Clearly he hasn't lost all control, I just watched him slip seamlessly from Dom to calm in a matter of seconds.

I'm grateful that he hugs me back – fiercely. When he pushes me back he narrows his eyes at me and I choose to play dumb, batting my eyes in my best disarming manner.

He grins a knowing smile and shakes his head, "so, what did you want to ask me?"

_So no sex at all then, not even vanilla?_ My inner goddess is disappointed.

Now I turn sombre, "why did you stop seeing Flynn?"

For a beat his eyes flash his anger before he recovers and looks away to shield me from it but his cadence can't hide his sarcasm. "You mean apart from the obvious?"

His not so veiled reference to my leaving hits me like a punch in the gut.

Seeing my reaction he softens his tone and runs a hand over his face, "with no one in my life to improve for, it seemed pointless." I watch him warring with himself as he considers his next words carefully, "you healed me of so many things, things that years of therapy never managed but you left me with a wound that I knew could never be mended."

I'm still sitting on his lap. Both my hands fly to cover my face; with all my might I try to withstand the barrage of my storming tears while I shake with the force of my regret.

"Hush baby." Immediately he crushes me to him, my head under his chin and bracing me with both strong arms. "I didn't say that to wound you and when I told you to stop feeling guilty, I meant it but I want you to be absolutely clear on how hard our separation was for me."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry." I whimper, wailing uncontrollably into his chest.

He strokes my hair and whispers soothing things to me until I'm composed enough to stop weeping.

I keep my head on his chest, too embarrassed to face him, I must look a mess. Crazy sex hair with red, blotchy skin and wet eyes. I fumble around my brain for something unrelated to talk about. I inhale a stuttering breath before I change the subject. "I didn't know you had business in Vegas."

He stills and I can sense the tension hardening his body, "I don't."

"Oh. It's just this morning, when I came into the lounge, you were talking about Vegas so I thought…" I shrug, not too bothered either way but wondering why he's suddenly on edge.

"That wasn't business Anastasia, it was pleasure." Something in the way he says this grabs my attention and I sit up, my eyes latch onto his where I catch his guarded look. For some reason my pulse is jumping madly and my belly flips nervously, what secret will he reveal that has him connected to "Sin City?"

_Do I really want to know?_

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me." My teeth work ferociously at my lip and I dip my eyes, fiddling with the belt of my robe.

When he chuckles my face stings with shame. He tips my head up and I'm a little relieved that his grey gaze is kind. He saves my lip from my teeth and his words are amused, "frankly I'm a little surprised that you haven't figured it out."

_Huh?_

I draw a blank and my baby blues bat questioningly at him, still at a loss.

He takes a steadying breath, focus carefully trained on me, "Anastasia, I'm stealing you away to get married tonight – in Vegas."


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello, hello. Sorry about the details of my that was removed by FF with my last chapter. If you want to join us on my please PM me or look on my FF profile. You can also try my name: Monique Lain. Please remember that if you're signed in as a guest and you ask a question in your review, I'm unable to answer it as I don't know who you are, FF doesn't have a function where I can reply to guest reviews. I do look at them all and I answer every one I can. They are deeply appreciated and very motivating – thank you for each and every one! Please keep it up.**

Chapter 20

I gasp, eyes stretched large in surprise, gaping at him in dismay, "Married? Tonight? But… but what about…?"

My jaw falls shut with a snap of my teeth, his kind eyes are completely blotted out by a new storm raging in them. Every hair on my body stands on end as I shiver in spite of the heat in the room. Christian's demeanour has gone arctic, well below zero.

_Oh shit, he's mad!_

I watch him with fear knotting in my stomach, I want to explain but he's so perilously close to the edge. His gravelly voice is laced with scorn, "What about what Anastasia?" he waits, cocking his head with a quick and precise movement, underlying the immense tension in his suddenly rigid back.

This is so sudden and he just sprung it on me – out of the blue. I wish I could get off his lap and put some distance between us so I can clear my head but his firm grip on the back of my neck commands me to stay.

I've forgotten that he needs managing, I know I need to disarm this situation - rapidly but now that I'm here I'm too caught up to think straight. "It's…ah… just sudden." I'm grateful to see that my stuttering, mumbled reply and the blatant fright in my eyes pierces his anger and I get a glimpse of the truth behind it. He is hurt.

_Oh no!_

"Why would we wait? I thought you knew what you wanted. Haven't we wasted enough time?" the residual anger makes his remark biting, challenging.

Mercifully my coping tools come back to me in a rush - affection in defence. I cup his face with both my hands, skating my thumbs over the bristled shadows of his cheeks. "I love you and I do know what I want but there are other people involved, we can't just elope without telling a soul." My eyes seek his, gifting him with every reassurance I can muster.

"Is that all you're protesting about?" he's gazing at me through slitted lids, not entirely convinced.

"It is," I state firmly, backing it up with a tender kiss on his delicious mouth.

"Good," he says thoughtful, "then Vegas it is – tonight." Now he's wearing a roguish smile, supremely confident again and now there's a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

"But…" Did he not hear what I just said?

"Hush." He cuts me off; the finality of his tone reminds me of his recent irritation. His index finger presses against my lips, the warning clear in his watch. "Do you really think that I'd make arrangements like that without our nearest and dearest?"

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" my brow puckers, I know I heard what he said but the implication is just too much for me to process. Our nearest and dearest can only be our families – right?

He looks a little sheepish when his gaze breaks away from mine. "Last night, when I was on my way here, when I had to call my parents to ask them to take care of Chris for the night, I mentioned that if things go my way we'd be married by Wednesday - latest."

_Seems I'm a bit of a foregone conclusion._

My jaw goes slack, of all the presumptuous, rash things he could do… I'm desperate to know what their reaction was but an even greater question surges to the forefront, "and my parents?" it's a breathy whisper spiked with panic and trepidation, barely pushed past my closing throat.

"I didn't call them last night." His voice is low and his attention is with me once more. I feel my whole body go limp with relief, _phew!_ After a beat he continues, "I called them this morning."

This time he lets me jump up, off his lap to have my mild panic attack, "why would you do that? Ray is so mad at me; mom's only just coming to terms with what I did. They're not ready for a wedding! What did they say? What did you tell them?" the questions trip off my tongue, falling over themselves to be answered. My brain-to-mouth filter, together with my sweet, post coital glow has gone completely AWOL.

My fists clench at my sides in time with Christian's jaw, I can see the tight mounds of annoyance pumping the muscles in his cheeks. We glower at each other, eyes drilling and cloudy with mutual ire.

His reply is tight, indicating the level of self-possession necessary to keep his cool, "if you would calm down for just a second we can talk about this like rational people. Don't think that I won't take you over my knee if I have to and trust me when I say it won't be pretty."

His threat does two things to me - it leaves me downright stunned and secondly; wanton - wet with need for him and his twitching palm. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ For obvious reasons I'm determined to avoid showing him the latter reaction, especially in the light of his recent confession. I just hope that my racing scarlet blush comes across as anger. "I am calm," I shout, showing that I'm anything but, "and you wouldn't dare!" my hand flies to my chest, bunching the lapels of my robe together in a vain bid to prove my diffidence.

But alas, he knows me too well and mercurial Christian steals my breath away. He gets up and prowls over to me, eyes suddenly smoking hot, his honeyed voice sliding sinuously through my body, sending my pulse wild. "Frankly it was an easy sell, I was surprised myself but then," he nails me with a pointed look, "maybe they know what's best for us and for Chris." He uncurls my fingers from their grip on my robe, never taking his eyes off mine.

_Damn you, perfidious body! Whose side are you on?_

"They agreed?" I mean to sound incredulous but end up with husky – again giving away freely that which I'm trying so hard to hide. I swallow aggressively against the escalating desire, pushing my mind to reframe my thoughts so I can concentrate.

_I had so many questions, where are they now? _

I bite down on the swollen curve of my lip and he makes a rumbling noise deep in his throat. He brings his head down, nipping it out of my teeth's grip before pressing a firm kiss onto my startled mouth. His hands have worked their way into my robe and I feel them sliding over my shoulders as he pushes it back, opening the lapels.

_Oh no you don't! _

In spite of my newly dazed state I still want answers and there's still the matter of his parents thinking that Christian did the walking and not me. I take a step back but he simply takes a step forward - a wicked, hungry gleam in the depths of his stare. My chest is almost completely exposed, the edges only just covering my budding nipples and when he dips his eyes for a long hard look there's no mistaking his carnal intent.

I clear my throat and inject a bit of authority into my tone to show him I mean business then I repeat my question. "What did they say?"

"You are so turned on Anastasia it's driving me nuts. Do you really want to talk about this now?" He looks down at himself, a crooked grin flaunting his pride of yet another waiting erection - poking impetuously at the folds of his robe.

I straighten the front of the robe and retie the belt. "Yes." It sounds choked and false, he's right, I am **so** turned on.

His disbelieving expression is followed by a sexy pout but he relents, "they said that they were happy that we sorted our shit out. They asked me to hold off on the wedding and I declined, explaining that I didn't want to waste any more time and then they agreed to come to the wedding." He shrugs, watching for my reaction.

"That's it?" I can't believe he charmed my mom and especially Ray into this.

"Pretty much." He resumes his heated look and starts a trail of kisses along my jaw, inching down my neck. They tingle on my skin and I have to fight to stay focussed.

"What about your parents?" he stops and snaps his head up, I see a flash of something in his darkened look I'm not sure of.

I don't want him to get mad but I refuse to get married with this hanging over me. It would be way worse if they find out after we were married.

"There's nothing to tell, they know what it's been like for me these last five years, I think they feel relieved." A stubborn line has set on his mouth, he looks terse and weary.

I'm hesitant to confront him about this issue; I can already see that he's going to dig his heels in on this one, regardless, I push on, "but there is something to tell isn't there Christian?" my voice is charged with reluctance.

He shakes his head – very slowly, a silent warning that couldn't have been any clearer if he yelled it at me. The heat creeping up my face makes me wilt under his granite stare and the stubborn line of his lips has turned down – _Fifty is not pleased_.

I gather every ounce of my will, it would be so easy just to accept it and never speak of it again – take the gift that he obviously wants to give me and hope the truth will never come to light but I don't want to risk the possible fallout.

I take his hands in mine and under the circumstances I'm grateful that he lets me. Adrenaline has fought off the earlier heat in my belly; I'm left with a cold sobriety - offering an uncluttered head. "I can't marry you without telling your parents the truth. I know you lied to protect me; that you told them that you were the one who walked out on me."

His features remain closed - stony and remote, "I just repeated your lie." He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face then slides it through his hair. "Let it go Anastasia. What does it matter?" he slips his other hand free of my hold and crosses his arms over his chest, defensive.

At first I'm caught up in his tone, it smacks of desolation – like he's lost his fighting spirit and that would be shocking enough if I didn't finally register the first part of his statement…

_Fuck!_ He knows what I told my parents and Jose when I left; he knows what I said to buy their cooperation and their silence.

My heart kicks then stammers and my breath whooshes out. The blood heating my face replaced with ice so cold it feels like it burns. "How did you…"

His scowl together with the sarcastic twist of his mouth says "come on" but the query in my eyes persists so he finally answers me, "I figured it out. How else would you get them to shut me out like that?"

_Too smart for his own damn good, shit!_ I was going to tell him, I was just waiting for the right moment and as I think it I realise how hollow it sounds. _Stupid! _

_Too late now_ – it's a low blow from my subconscious.

Christian see's my reaction and catches me just before the black spots dancing before my eyes become total darkness, my knees buckle and my ears pop making everything seem very distant. "Breathe Anastasia!"

His words drag me back and I gulp air like I've been drowning. When my brain is saturated with oxygen again he lays me on the couch and strides to the kitchen for a glass of water. On his way back his face is a mask of concern and determination.

I take the water gratefully, warmth returning to me and settling as two, bright red spots of embarrassment high on my cheeks. I can't believe I almost fainted; I'm beyond annoyed at myself.

He sinks onto the floor next to me and brushes my hair away from my face. His eyes large, marred by the scare he just got. "You okay?"

I shake my head; I know my gaze must be dull as remorse fills me - sticky, stifling, suffocating. "I'm sorry; I didn't know what else to do."

"This is why I didn't bring it up, haven't we been through enough? We can only go over this so many times and as far as my parents are concerned," he drops his eyes, pulling his shoulders up, "I knew you were nervous about seeing them again and when that paparazzi article appeared in the Miami Herald, forcing our hand, I did what I thought was best for us."

He lifts his head and locks onto my stare, his eyes are bright and candid. "I wasn't going to let anything stand in our way again even if I wasn't yet ready to admit that I wanted you back."

I love that he made a conscious decision to try and help me, to smooth the way with his parents but there is just no way I can let them continue to believe this lie. "Oh Christian, I love you." I slide off the couch and onto his lap to hug him. One hand makes it into his hair and presses his head into my neck and the other anchors him to me from around his waist.

I hear him exhale, like he's relieved before he reciprocates and crushes my body to his. "Thank you for always thinking about me and what I might need but you know that I can't let them continue to think that you left me because of Chris." I break our embrace to seek his face, "it's not the right thing to do and I've done enough of that."

For a moment he looks like he's going to argue but then relents, his eyes softening as his irritation retreats. "You never fail to surprise me, one moment you're so vulnerable and the next so brave." His hushed, awed tone surprises me and I look down, suddenly shy. My rising blush and bashful smile in evidence of his words.

He tips up my head with a demanding hand fisting in my hair, "I love that blush, don't hide it from me." The movement is forceful, hinting at Dominant Christian and it sends my neurons firing in every direction, my skin prickling with awareness of him. My mouth opens for an involuntary gasp but his lush lips stops its escape as his hot mouth moulds to mine.

It escalates quickly, like a fire spurred on by a warm wind it grows ferocious, burning every thought and reservation away until we're only mouths and hands and groans of pleasure. If I was ever going to come from just a kiss it would be this one.

A rapid knock on the door makes us jump apart, panting with swollen lips and racing pulses. "No more arguing." Christian's husky growl reaches the insistent trembling between my legs; all I can do is stare with big eyes and nod my conformity – my body bereft at the broken contact.

He lifts me off his lap and stands, his movements athletically styled – it's a blatant, visual reminder of how well he can apply that stunning body. "Vegas. Tonight. Or I'll make you put "obey" in your wedding vows." He grumbles passing me a stern look before he strides to the door.

I've no doubt that he could make me do exactly that, especially if he's going to continue to torture me with kisses like that.

A moment later, still overcome and waiting for my hormones to settle I hear Taylor's reserved greeting, "Ms Steele."

I'm still sitting on the floor and have to look up to see him, "Hi Taylor." My smile freezes on my lips when I watch him drop his head so he can't meet my eye.

_I know he's angry with me but that's just plain rude!_

I look to Christian, astonished by Taylor's sudden interest in his shoes but he's wearing an angry scowl, eyes glued to my chest. When I look down, still confused, the reason becomes apparent. My robe is dangerously open, the lapels only just covering my modesty.

_Mmhhh, that will be Mr Sexpertise with his clever, sneaky hands…._

"Ah!" My hands gather the terry cloth and I drag the folds over my breasts aggressively. "Sorry," I mutter, my face aflame. Now I couldn't look him in the eye even if I wanted to.

Christian places a trendy, branded duffel on the couch, "Taylor has brought you something to wear. Get ready, we'll leave shortly." He doesn't wait for my reply and follows Taylor into the study and closes the door.

_Oh yes, I don't have a thing to wear._ Memories of Christian ripping the red dress off me flood my mind and I squeeze my thighs together, hoping to expel the lingering ache. _I hope he's not mad, it's not my fault he leaves me hanging like that, how is a girl to concentrate?_

I push myself up and head for the bathroom but as I walk past the study I hear Christian, he's obviously furious, "How the fuck did this happen?" his question is punctuated by what I assume is his fist thudding on the desk. I stop and listen intently for Taylor's reply but I can't hear a thing.

"Get it sorted!" I can just see him running both hands through his unruly hair. "Fuck!"

I'm relieved that it's clearly not about me but if not then it has to be a new development in our situation. Christian doesn't lose it like that for no reason, the only things that get him this mad is me and someone threatening his loved ones.

"Yes, in an hour." His tone is more measured now and I realise that the conversation is coming to an end. I scamper to the safety of the bathroom but a cold trickle of unease has started to chew at my consciousness.

I brush my teeth and slip into the shower, it doesn't take long for the cascading water to relax me and just as I'm done soaping myself up I hear the soft click of the shower door behind me.

Christian's arms curl around me, my back to his front and he buries his nose in my wet hair. "I can watch you do that all day." His hands start to drift over my slippery curves.

I put my head back, onto his shoulder, "you okay?" More than anything I hope that he'll be honest and not shut me out.

He stiffens and I explain, "I heard you yell at Taylor."

"We'll talk later, I promise, but right now I want to lose myself in you." It's all I need to give in to his roaming hands and his prodding erection against my backside.

_Okay, maybe there is something I want more…_

When I turn I find his look blistering, watching his hands glide across my slick body. I reach for the shower gel and squirt a large dollop onto my hand so I can reciprocate. I start in slow circles on his chest, enjoying my hands skating smoothly over his firm pecks before I inch down to his defined abdominal muscles.

I guess he can see that I'm on a mission of my own because his hands drop away and I hear him hiss, too caught up, he gives himself to me. I take full advantage and push him against the cool tiles. My hands work firmly against him, trailing down ever so slowly. I concentrate on the sexy dents on the side of his hips, then his upper thighs where I can really feel the steel in his tensed muscles.

_Wow, this is so hot! I can't believe Mr Über Control is letting me do this. My inner goddess is beside herself with glee._

My hands and fingers slip and slide everywhere except where I know he wants me to touch him and I love hearing him groan and suck in his breath as I find the places that drive him wild. Every so often I catch his erection twitching brutally, as if to prompt me to touch it.

He's eyes are closed and I can tell that he's completely immersed in the sensations. My heart swells at the sight when I realise just how much he must trust me to allow me to do this to him. My waning control crumbles as my need for him overtakes my seduction plans and I drop to my knees. Because he doesn't see it coming it rips a raw growl from his throat - guttural.

I can feel his body jolt like I've shocked him with electricity, his hands fist in my hair, holding my hot mouth onto him. "Fuck, I'm not going to make it baby."

His husky words hit my heart as hard as it hits my sex. I'm overjoyed at his display of trust and soaked with lust at his dissolving control. Almost out of my mind with need I thrust harder and deeper, a second later swallowing the viscous result of his pleasure as he shudders into my mouth.

He shows his appreciation by dragging me up and ramming his tongue into my mouth. His kiss is aggressive and hungry and it's my turn to be pushed up against the wall. One hand finds my breast, milking and kneading, the other runs roughly down my body. We gasp into each other's mouths when he effortlessly sinks a frenzied finger into me. It's soon joined by a mate and he curls them forward, as if to join his thumb pressing on my clitoris.

My nails dig into the wet flesh of his back as I convulse at the sharp thrusts, the sensation intense enough to rocket me straight into a juddering, soul shattering release.

Our breathing hard he rests his forehead against mine, his hands cup the side of my face but my jellified body is still too weak to hold him back. "Ana," he breathes – it's almost pained, he's gripped with emotion so strong it lacks words to describe. I know this because I feel it too.

_Fuck! Wow!_

I smile and shake my head, at our amazing shared moment as well as the fact that he clearly wants round two.

He smirks when he sees my reaction, raising his brows suggestively at me. "I can never get enough of you." I beam back, thrilled that he's happy but unsure if I can manage another whirl with Mr Insatiable.

He laughs, and kisses me sweetly. "Much as I have no qualms in making you come again we don't have time. Our plane leaves in forty minutes." He turns me by the shoulders and swats my behind playfully when I step out of the shower. "Hurry along."

We get dressed and I dry my hair. Christian quickly packs our things back in the duffel and when he's sure I'm watching, makes a big show of dropping the torn red dress into the trash. He makes a satisfied "it's done" gesture with his hands before rewarding me with his full, HD smile.

I can only laugh. In a quick stride he's by my side and grabs my hand, folding it into his big palms, "I can't wait to call you Mrs Grey again." He kisses the back of it and I melt, he's so buoyant, his enthusiasm is contagious and I feel myself getting excited about our wedding. I know whatever he has planned will be special but I'm burning with curiosity.

"Neither can I." After a wink and a smile from me he leads me out of the suite. In the elevator we peek at each other like idiots, it makes me giggle and he pulls me closer, tucking me under his arm.

Taylor is waiting at the curb, his eyes are distant with tension and the line of his shoulders hard. He opens the door and I wave briefly before ducking in, still embarrassed about my earlier state of undress. I greet Brandon who occupies the front passenger seat.

"Mr Grey, Ms Steele," he nods back and I immediately sense the same tension on him.

Taylor pulls away from the curb and the Audi glides easily into the lane. Christian has a firm grip on my hand but I can already feel him slipping away from me now that our love bubble is burst. He's staring through the window, lost in his own world.

I'm determined not to be left in the dark and something is very definitely up. "What's going on Christian?"

He looks at our joined hands and then to me, "I don't really want to tell you, I don't want you to worry." His thumb is brushing back and forth over my skin.

"I understand but I'm not going to be shut out like this again. It makes me do stupid things because I don't know what's really going on."

He sighs, tapping a frustrated fist on the door before he speaks, "we've had another incident." He seems older as the full weight of the situation bears down on him, "If something were to happen to you or Chris…" I sense him shivering at his own dark thoughts.

He's still reluctant to tell me but I'm not backing down, especially now that I can see how it's affecting him. "What happened?"

"Brandon, pass the folder will you?" He leans forward, in-between the two font seats and Brandon hands him a manila folder. He takes it and spreads it out on his lap. He hands me a sheet of paper that looks like a newspaper clipping.

Before I take it I catch his eye, gone is playful, loving Fifty – the barriers are well and truly up, barred with an extra measure of steel.

My gaze swings to the page and recognition is the first thing that dawns. It looks exactly like the photos I found in Christian's closet when I went searching for his silver grey tie. The image is grainy, but it's definitely taken from inside Christian's playroom. Because of the angle it's impossible to tell for sure who the man is but I'd know his form anywhere – there's no doubt in my mind that it's Christian.

The woman is naked, bent over the armrest of the whipping bench, hands bound behind her back and eyes covered with a mask. In her mouth is a ball-gag. Even if you knew her you'd be hard pressed to recognize her. You can make out the angry lines on her buttocks and another one on the way as Christian's arm is captured in the photo, holding a thin cane and drawn back for the next blow.

My heart is drumming a frantic beat, the ice of anxiety stealing over me as I take in the picture, it really does speak a thousand words. Only then do I sweep my eyes over the rest of the page, the photo is so confronting that I missed the writing underneath even though the heading now has me by the throat:

_**The many faces of Christian Grey: planet angel or dark daemon?**_

_The green prince seems to have a dark side. Multibillionaire industrialist and business tycoon Christian Grey values his privacy more than most things. A quote that he's repeated on many occasions and now we know why. Our sources tell us that the leading head of the green industrialist movement in the US has good reason to protect his privacy, it seems his personal, twisted tastes runs even deeper than his pockets. Maybe that's why his wife ran the first chance she got. _

_First news underground – we tell it like it is_

I can see why he's concerned.


	21. Chapter 21

**Dear readers, as always I thank you for your continued support and encouragement. I'm humbled by the efforts you make sending reviews and comments. Please keep going, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback.**

Chapter 21

The invisible hands around my neck tighten their grip, I'm lightheaded and my breathing, strained. I wonder if Christian can hear my heartbeat when I lift my uncertain eyes to his. With his guarded look firmly in place he observes me, seemingly waiting for something.

"Do you want to cancel the wedding?" I'm pondering his frame of mind if we stayed home where he could control all the eventualities.

His gaze flames into passion and for a beat he says nothing before swallowing hard, "uhm..., No." Concise and clear. His brown furrows, "do you?"

"No?" I don't intend to make it sound like a question but I get the strangest impression that he's waiting for something – maybe there's a right and a wrong answer here.

Like a cold slap in the face the penny drops and the question lodges like a giant thorn in my throat. I try to shove it down, If I'm honest, I'm not sure I want to know.

_Could this have been taken recently, did he lie about not seeing someone?_

What I thought were butterflies in my belly has now turned to clawing, angry birds and I brace myself to launch my query, "when was this picture taken?" I swing my eyes back to the offensive article hearing my blood rush through my ears. I feel the full weight of his stare on me, burning my skin into the hot red flush it now displays.

He can't be angry; I know that this is the question he was anticipating. I can't believe how trusting I am, that I didn't think of it sooner. Our entire relationship hangs on his next words.

His quick fingers release my seatbelt and before I know what's happened I'm on his lap. Both, rough hands are fisted in my hair, anchoring my head in place just inches from his. "How can you even ask me that? That photo - and I'm telling you this just so we're clear, I don't want you to EVER doubt me - was part of the stash that you found in my closet and maybe I should have mentioned it at the time but I destroyed each and every one of them - that day."

The relief is sharp and I sag against him, pushing out a shaky breath but it's short-lived, a bunch of equally horrific uncertainties stay behind. My arms curl around his neck and I rest my head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling. "I believe you," I breathe onto his warm skin. Being this close, smelling his unique Christian smell calms me back to rationality. Strong arms band around me, pressing me closer until I'm aware of his beating heart kicking into my chest. He's just as unsettled as I am.

Still holding him tight I try to make sense of it all, "who is she?"

When he doesn't reply I push back to find his eyes, I'm taken aback by what I find before he gets a chance to lower them. It's embarrassment coloured with a touch of desolation - leaving me dumbstruck.

"I don't know," he says eventually, still avoiding looking at me.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I squeak at him, suddenly annoyed.

Now he's willing to meet my gaze but only because he wants to warn me, a silent brow snaps up in a sharp arch, telling me to reign myself in.

Suitably castigated, I blush again. I want to snuggle back into him but now I feel uncertain of my welcome. Thankfully he takes the lead and tucks my head back in its nest, stroking my hair absentmindedly.

His tone is measured, his voice low, "I had many of those exact photos, I almost always ended a scene like that and because all the girls were uhm..., a certain type - I can't tell."

_Oh yes, petite girls with pale skins and long brown hair – just like me._

The stress of the situation mingles with relief, melding into a weird, unnamed emotion that sends my belly into a free fall before it strikes me as funny. Without warning, a hysterical giggle-snort escapes me. I clamp my hand over my mouth, in shock or fear - I don't know, but I can't do anything to stop it. My round eyes gape at him as a bubbling fit of giggles shake my shoulders, my eyes watering.

Christian doesn't see the funny side, the slate of his eyes turn cool, "maybe if I saw the original," he huffs indignantly.

I try to focus on curbing my hysteria, rearranging my face into a suitable mask but it's hard, my mouth keeps tugging into a smile. I release a long breath and swipe at my wet eyes, still feeling the laughter ramming to pop up to the surface.

"I'm sorry," I say still wrestling the giggles down. "So," I clear my throat, "who is "First News Underground?" I'm desperate to claw back my decorum; this is a serious matter after all.

He narrows his eyes, peering through the slits at me then lets it go, "we were very lucky to pick it up. It's really only a one man show who runs an unofficial news blog from his basement, mostly UFO sightings and conspiracy theories. If it wasn't for the large reach of Grey Publishing we would never have come across it until it was too late." His sober expression gives an inkling of what a close call it was.

"Okay, that's good right? You managed to contain it?" My voice is hopeful before another question adds confusion. "And why would a UFO blog run a report on you?"

"Yes we've contained it. He's taken it off but it doesn't change the fact whoever's behind this threat is hell bent on making life very difficult for me. That they have access to this photograph speaks volumes of how far he or she has come uncovering things that I've spent my life hiding – carefully." He gives me a meaningful look. "I suspect the purp chose this blog because the writer likes his material scandalous and controversial, he doesn't seem to care too much about fact checking. Often his sources are dubious - at best. I think their hope was that one of the major newsagencies would pick it up and run with the story simply because it's about me."

"Did the blogger divulge any information about his source?" my senses are heightened by the anxiety, my belly uncomfortable with worry.

"No, and we pushed - hard." I swallow, deliberating about the meaning of that before I blot it from my mind, I'm better off not knowing every detail.

Christian continues, "eventually he caved and showed Barney the anonymous e-mail, he's looking into the IP address but we're not holding our breaths, it was probably sent from a false account to begin with."

"And you obviously think all these incidents are related."

A full minute passes before he answers, all the while regarding me and I wonder if he's sifting through it all in his mind, choosing the things that he's willing to share. "Yes, more and more."

On the one hand I'm relieved that he trusts me enough to confide in me but on the other I hate feeling this off kilter. I'm troubled, especially as this threat still seems largely unidentified. We don't even know what we're up against. The strain around Christian's mouth and eyes are clear signs that he's way more concerned that he's letting on.

Because there's nothing I can do and to lift his spirits, I kiss his face – on his eyes, his temples, his nose and finally his mouth. He responds with a groan and deepens what was supposed to be a chaste kiss.

When we break away, our hearts are both pounding in a synchronised rhythm, cheeks flushed.

"You sure know how to take a guy's mind of his problems." A touch of admiration and a large dollop of lust stare back at me, his voice raspy and low.

I smile sweetly, "we aim to please."

His hands glide down my back and grip my hips. He pushes me down whilst he thrusts up, grinding the evidence of his lust into my behind.

_Oh my! In the car, with the security team inches away?_

"So brazen," he says when he reads the thought on my face. He brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. "You're a bad influence," he whispers and grins, "later, we're nearly there."

For a moment I allow myself to indulge in some mile high fantasies but if I know him, Chris and his family will be on board. Maybe even mine. The salacious smile slips from my mouth along with my heart, into my shoes.

"Buckle up baby." He lifts me off his lap and I flop back into my seat. His tone is gentle and as always he knows the reason behind my sudden deflation. "You don't have to do it; I don't give a shit what anyone thinks. Not even them and this is our wedding day. I don't want you to be upset." His whole body is turned to me, both hands clasping mine while his thumbs stroke over my skin.

"I do Christian; I can't build this relationship on a lie. It's too big."

He nods but his lips turn down, unhappy with my decision.

"Who will be on the plane?" Maybe I'm lucky and I'll have another two hours respite.

He smiles, "Chris, mom, dad and Mia. It was too short notice for your mom and Bob; I arranged for them to fly directly from Savannah. Oh and Ray, he drove up early this morning. Kate and Elliot sends their best wishes, they're a little mad at me for the sudden plans." He flashes a wry smile.

I know full well what he's like when he's made up his mind about something; an absent brother wasn't going to be enough to postpone this wedding.

I gulp, bad enough I have to face the Grey's with my horrible truth but my heart hurts most from Ray's disappointment in me. I don't even know what I'm going to say.

All too soon we drive onto the tarmac and the familiar Grey Enterprises jet comes into view. Stately in the afternoon sun, the steel bird that will fly us to our dreams – I hope.

Carl and Collins flank the jet doorway and nod their greetings as Christian and I duck through the arch, Christian's hand is curled into mine like a vine. Brandon and Taylor bring up the rear. We're greeted by a squeal and a torpedo of energy that barrels into us. I catch Chris and lift him into a tight hug.

"Hey buddy, I've missed you so much!" I plant endless kisses all over his face and hair.

His little arms slip around my neck and he hugs me back, "mommy we're going on the plane again!"

I snort, even after a night without me I don't register nearly as exciting as a plane ride. I hold him a bit longer even though I can feel him wriggling free. "I know, isn't it great?" I set him down and he turns to Christian, holding up his arms.

I smirk, he already knows how to manipulate Christian, he hasn't done that in the last year.

The beam on Christian's face is achingly beautiful, delighted. He bundles him up and presses Chris' cheek to his own. The image of the pair of them brings the threat against us home – if anything were to happen to them…

I'm broken out of my meandering thoughts by the Greys; eager to congratulate us. I accept their well wishes with a heavy heart knowing that they might not be so happy about this after I confess my stupidity. When I catch Grace's eye I thank her for the extra-long babysitting duty and in return she clutches me to her chest, grateful. I'm the one that should be grateful and I feel my spirits slipping further.

Finally it's Ray's turn. He shakes Christian's hand, pumping his arm and boring into his skull, some quiet message passes between them and I suddenly feel surplus, standing awkwardly to one side. He slaps Christian on the back and lets him go.

When Ray turns to me I'm relieved to see a small smile in his face. He hugs me and I melt, so comforted that I fling my arms around his neck in what can only be described as a wrestling hold.

He laughs, 'whoa Annie, happy to see your old man eh?"

I clamp harder, straining back the happy tears. "Yes, something like that."

"You made it right baby girl. Now, don't mess it up again," he whispers next to my ear.

"I won't dad, I promise." Never have I uttered more heartfelt words.

Christian has graciously moved away, chatting to his family to give us some space. When Ray and I join them he quickly threads his fingers through mine again, as if he can't bear not to. I love it and give him a shy smile, squeezing his hand in acknowledgement.

The stewardess announces our take-off and Christian stands back guiding me to our seat and letting me slip into the one next to the window. Before I have time to reach for my seatbelt he's already clipped it in place, eyes lingering on the strap he licks his lips then pulls it tight with an expert yank, flooding my memory with X-rated images, mostly involving a certain silver grey tie. The scorching, knowing smile I get in return would have buckled my knees if I wasn't already seated.

Mercurial to a fault he drops that look, swapping it for paternal affection as he secures Chris into the seat opposite us, leaving me a little more than breathless. Mia drops into the seat next to Chris. She winks at me, excitement rolling off her like waves, making me feel it too.

"I take it your evening went well." She says to us, lifting her brows suggestively.

"Not that it's any of your business," Christian turns to me and lifts my hand to his lips, "but yes, it went according to plan." As an only child I always enjoy their good natured bantering and I smile in reply, doe-eyed for my man.

Shortly after take-off Christian leans to me, "baby I've got some work to do. I'll be in the office if you need anything."

_Oh, no mile high, finish-what-you-started sex then?_

He grins when he sees the disappointment on my face, "you're insatiable Anastasia."

I tilt closer, brushing my lips to the shell of his ear, "so are you Mr Grey." I can't resist a little nibble and I shiver when he sucks in a needy breath.

"I might have to punish you for that." His hooded eyes have gone dark, his promise darting straight to my groin.

_Yes please!_

He plants a quick kiss on my hungry lips, "laters baby," he winks and his index finger taps me gently on the tip of my nose.

_Tease!_

He pivots to face Chris, "hey champ, daddy's got some work to do, we'll catch up when we land okay?"

"Okay daddy, look I'm winning!" Mia is teaching him how to play tic-tac-toe on a smartphone app.

"That's great buddy, you should watch her though, she cheats!" He ruffles Chris's hair and Mia objects, giggling along with Chris.

Oh well, it will give me an opportunity to talk to Grace and Carrick. With Chris entertained I seize the opportunity to plan what I want to say but before long Ray slides into the seat next to me.

"Ana," he whispers with wide eyes, "Grace and Carrick seems to think that Christian walked out on you. What's going on?"

"Oh dad," I sigh, knowing that I can't put it off any longer. "I know. What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything, what do you mean you know?" his earlier warmth is beginning to wane, irritable at being kept in the dark.

"I'm sorry dad, I only recently found out myself but Christian told them that to protect me. I was just sitting here thinking about what to say to them, I have to tell them the truth." My eyes cast down, watching my fingers fiddle with the seat controls.

Instantly his kindness is back, pleased that I'm making the honourable decision and I'm bolstered by the approval that his gaze holds. "It's the right thing to do," he agrees and takes my hand. "Go now, I'll keep these two out of the way." He inclines his head in Chris' and Mia's direction.

"Okay," I unclip the seatbelt and take a deep breath; crossing my fingers in hope that it won't ruin the day.

Better get it over with; I might lose my nerve if I wait any longer.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask Grace and Carrick as their smiling faces turn to me, their seats face the back of the plane and when they nod I take Ray's seat directly opposite them.

The mother in Grace is instantly attuned to my mood and her smile fades, "what's the matter Ana?" she reaches over, shifting forward in her seat and lays a hand on my shoulder.

When I look up it's straight into twin expressions of concern. "I have something to tell you." I reach for Ray's bottled water in the arm rest and take a sip, my powder dry mouth needs a bit of help.

"What is it darling girl?" I wince at the endearment, Grace has found Carrick's hand and judging by the way she's gripping it; her current anxiety level is up there with mine.

Another breath to slow my galloping heart is necessary to begin, I wish I could take it but the lump in my throat doesn't budge.

"Christian wasn't the one that walked out on me because I was pregnant; I was the one that left." My voice is flat and low, a robotic monotone.

Disbelief renders them quiet, leaving me free to continue. Now that the truth is out I'm eager to explain even though I know nothing can temper their hurt. Their shocked stares take me in and my eyes slip away, ashamed.

"I knew Christian didn't want the baby and it was probably my fault - getting pregnant in the first place. I was terrified, so scared that I had no faith in our relationship – in his love for me so, I ran. I convinced myself that I was doing him a favour, that he didn't need me and that I was a passing interest that was going to bring something into his life that he didn't want. I was certain that he would end up resenting me."

Hot embarrassment burn high on my cheeks as I feel the familiar stab of pain in my heart, the type of pain that causes your whole being to ache with regret. "I was so stupid, I'm so sorry." I speak to the floor and watch the pattern on the carpet blur as the tears begin to drip off my face.

Their silence is stinging my ears, with every moment that laps I feel worse knowing that I've caused this grief, this loss that's shaken their belief in me. I cringe as I remember the many times they thanked me for bringing their son out of his shell.

"Ana!" there's no mistaking the anger in which my name is spoken; Grace draws herself up in the seat, her shoulders squared to me. "He loved you… What on earth were you thinking?" she shakes her head, exasperated. All I can do is agree.

"I thought I was doing the right thing, in fact I never doubted it until I saw him again. I didn't realise…" What's the point of explaining? It's impossible to put what I went through into words, how insecure I was, - am in some cases. I wilt a little more and try to find comfort in the fact that I did the right thing telling them even though the price seems much too high.

Carrick looks to me and then to her, his face as serious mask. "I think what Grace is trying to say is that we understand how difficult Christian can be, Grace and I often spoke about it over the years. There were times when we also didn't feel his love, doubted that he was even capable of giving or receiving it."

I'm taken aback by his astute observation, infinitely surprised that he seems to be fighting in my corner for a change but he directs his words at her, gently rubbing her back.

Grace glares at him, I can see the truth register with her but the loss of four years of her grandson's life and her son's hurt overrules everything else and I can hardly blame her. I would be just as mad – maybe even worse.

"I never intended to hurt him. I was trying to save him."

"Him or yourself Ana?" Her blazing look and accurate analysis lashes like a whip across my heart, there's no way I can deny that I was desperate to protect myself from the potential heart shattering moment of Christian's indifference to me.

I hang my head, chagrined, "him and me," I mutter desolately.

"How do you feel about your relationship now?" Carrick's gentle question takes me by surprise and I dare meet his eyes.

A quick dart to Grace reveals that she's listening too, albeit with a stony expression fixed into place. "I know where I went wrong and I've made a commitment to see someone about my self-esteem issues." My fingers twist nervously in my lap, "I don't want to lose him again and I definitely don't want to be responsible for another split. Christian needs Chris as much as Chris needs him."

Grace falls back in her seat; a contemplative fist rests at her mouth, "that's something at least." Her tone is grudging.

By Carrick's glace to his wife's unhappy face it's clear that he's not used to seeing her this agitated. "Thank you for telling us the truth Ana, I can imagine the courage it must've taken."

Grace's sarcastic snort is so uncharacteristic to her usual, well put-together self that it turns the knife in my heart. Carrick's kind eyes are the only reason I'm not a crumbling heap on the floor, begging her forgiveness.

With lips pressed together and a weary look he signals for me to give them some privacy. I nod, understanding. "I know it's not nearly enough but I am sorry and I do love him. I never stopped." My faltering voice breaks and I stop the sob with my hand over my mouth. I use the last of my dignity to push myself up and find refuge in the bedroom in the back of the plane.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

I wait for the tears but they don't come, I'm too overwhelmed, too shocked. That was brutal! Even my inner girls know to keep their chirpy mouths tightly shut. I draw my knees up and hug them to my trembling body. Despondency eclipsing any reprieve I might have found in confession.

Moments later the door opens, "hey baby…." a halting breath stops Christian's purr mid-sentence, "what's wrong Ana?" By my side, on the bed, he does want he does best and pulls me to him, soothingly cradling me to his chest.

"I spoke to your parents." My low voice sounds emotionless; my eyes only see Grace's face contort in hurt.

Christian pushes me away, "what the fuck Ana? Without me? You told them without me telling my side of the story?" His unexpected harshness makes me jump, I stare at him blankly.

_What? I was supposed to wait?_

I blink, "I didn't…, you didn't say…, I…"

Christian cuts me off, "what? You didn't think I wanted to be present when you crucified your relationship with my parents? That I wanted to help you put things into perspective for them?" he jumps up, pacing the room, dragging an angry hand through his hair while the other fist grinds into his side.

He stops in front of me, glaring down, his brow scowling. "Why do you insist on always doing everything on your damn own? Why can't you accept help?"

His outburst ratchets me from despondent to cross, "I wasn't aware that I needed any!"

He throws his arms and his eyes heavenward, at a loss he turns to leave, 'I'll talk to them," he says through his clenched teeth over his retreating shoulder.

_When will he learn that I don't need him to fight my battles?_

I give myself a couple minutes to calm down before I head out myself. I'm sure my little boy must be wondering where I am.

Walking back I feel like I'm conspicuous in my shame, like there's a sign on me blaring it out to the world. I'm careful to avoid Mia and Ray's gazes, grateful that the parent Greys are ensconced with Christian in the on-board office. I lavish my attention on Chris, trying to keep my thoughts off all the people I manage so effortlessly to piss off.

Every ounce of strength I have I use not to slip into that black hole of doubt that tells me that I'm not good enough, that I don't belong or deserve to be here. It's done me no good in the past and now it's damn near wrecked my relationship with my in-laws.

As we start our decent Christian joins me, slumping into his seat he slides his thumb and index finger across his forehead – like he's warding off a headache. His parents take up theirs behind us, I'm more than happy to postpone facing them again.

He doesn't look at me but he takes my hand, "it'll be fine, just give them some time."

I drag my eyes to the window to hide the tell-tale shimmer on their surface; I hope he's right. It's supposed to be a happy day, what are the chances that they'll come around before tonight?

The confined space of the plane seems stifling now with Grace's anger in such close proximity and I'm happy when we land and disembark though it's awkward. I'm not sure if I should avoid her or reach out.

The decision is taken away from me when we split up to fill the two waiting SUV's parked a small distance from the plane, the uniformed chauffeurs waiting at attention for us. Grace, Carrick and Ray along with Collins and Carl duck into the first and Christian, Mia, Chris and I go to the second, our own security team tagging along.

Even though I know it's my fault I'm glad to have a break from them. I watch Chris, his eyes are fluttering, lulled by the moving vehicle after another exciting day. He'll be asleep in a minute.

"Where are we going?" I look up to Christian who is still a little lost in his own thoughts.

"Hhmm?" he says dragging himself away from his pondering mind, grey eyes finding mine and softening.

I smile and repeat my question, "where are we going?"

"For you my bride, only the best." He grins before he leans in and kisses my mouth.

I sigh in pleasure, shivering helplessly at his seductive tone. He watches me, amused. "We'll be staying at the Bellagio; they've offered us a villa."

"Ooohhhh!" Mia gushes! "Ana, that's so romantic! You're so lucky; the Villas at the Bellagio are invitation only.

My awed expression gains an affirmative nod from Christian and he smiles indulgently at me.

Mia continues, hitting an exited stride, "I've never been but one of my friends dated a whale and he was invited to stay, she said that it was exquisite!"

I giggle, "a whale?"

She bats playfully in my direction, smirking, "you know, a high roller!"

"Ah," I nod, mirroring her smile. I slip my arm behind Christian's back and give him a squeeze around his lean waist, "thank you, I know anything you organise will be special."

He curls his arm around my shoulders and holds me in place, pressing a kiss on my head, "anything for you." Even the husky note in his voice sends delicious tingles down my spine.

We're already driving down the strip and even though it's daytime, the lights are all flashing and blinking their invitation to hedonistic fun.

"Are we getting married at the hotel?" I drag my eyes away from the rioting colours and look to him.

He smiles an enigmatic smile, giving nothing away. "No, I find full-on Vegas a bit crass, for us, I have something a little more…, sedate in mind." A wink is the only other clue he's prepared to offer me.

_Mmmhhh, let's hope what happens in Vegas doesn't only stay in Vegas…_

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! Chapter 22 to follow!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello, I'm so sorry it's a bit late but here it is! The chapter took some research and the silly season has started demanding chunks of time that I give reluctantly. Thank you for the reviews, I appreciate them all. To all the readers in NY, I'm sorry for your current circumstances and hope that things will soon return to normal.**

**Please don't forget to review!**

Chapter 22

The Bellagio is an experience to say the least. We're treated like royalty and the hotel is the epitome of ostentatious luxury, completely over the top and quintessentially Vegas.

The first breathtaking thing we come across is the lobby ceiling. It's decorated with over 2000 hand blown glass flowers – a stunning work of art called Fiori Di Como. The glass blossoms sit on impossibly delicate stems, like they're growing out of the ceiling, their floral faces peeking in all directions. Hues of blues and reds, pinks and yellows, greens and orange are all lit from behind making them glow gently as they run in thick strips along the roof.

Our wonderment is interrupted by Alec, a welcoming concierge with a bright smile and a designer suit, immaculate and understated. He greets us by name while a bell person takes care of our meagre luggage. The staff's level of professionalism is astounding, their attention to detail – unparalleled, it seems that nothing is too much to ask.

Both sets of parents as well as Ray and Mia are booked into gorgeous suites within the hotel but my mom and Bob is only expected later today. Mia promises to come and help me get ready once she's freshened up but I suspect that she's keen to be with Chris. To me, it's clear that she's yearning for a little one of her own to cherish and love. After another rather awkward moment of hugging the Grey's goodbye for the afternoon, we split up and they make their way to their rooms.

As Christian, Chris and I are staying in one of the Villas, Alec accompanies us, along with Taylor and Brandon to the Executive Suite Lounge for a private registration process, an added benefit and decadent luxury that forms part of the Villa package.

We follow him, admiring the sites as we go. Chris who was still sleepily lying on Christian's shoulder is now wide awake, refreshed from his brief nap in the car. By the look on his face I can tell that he's bowled over by our surroundings. Eyes wide in wonder, barely able to blink, his little mouth is gaping in awe as he takes it all in.

We walk through a spectacular conservatory that holds a breathtaking display of flowers and plants. Alec acts as our guide and tells us that the display changes five times a year according to seasonal themes. Right now it's the fall display and the space is awash with every conceivable hue of orange and gold. Chrysanthemums decorate the flower beds, they're planted in patterns making them look like bold brush strokes of colour from a painter's canvas. Huge pumpkins and life like animal statues are dotted amongst the prolific flowers and Chis points out that all the animals are made entirely of flowers.

"Mommy, daddy, look at the flower birds!"

We stop in front of two Egret sculptures. The one is in an upright pose, looking into the distance and the other's neck slopes down with an elegant curve as if plucking a fishy snack from the water. Everything is made of fresh flowers, even the water they're standing in. Behind them are tall plants and trees creating a wonderful three dimensional backdrop, a feast for the eye eventually leading your gaze upward to the ornate glass roof.

Christian sets Chris on his feet and then crouches beside him. "Those are Great Egrets champ; they catch fish in the water with their long beaks." There's so much to see, our senses are almost overwhelmed as Christian points out the cutest rabbits, "look at the little bunnies!"

After he squeals at the bunnies with fat white blooms for fur his eyes grow large again and I follow his excited stare. His arm goes up, pointing - too stunned to speak. Peeking out from behind tall grasses is a life size flower tiger complete with growling sneer.

"Wow!" Christian and I exclaim in unison. We smile at each other and I'm tempted to say snap before we follow him hand in hand to share his joyous discovery.

After the gobsmacking conservatory another surprise awaits us. We pass a big manmade lake with dancing fountain that's synchronized to music and coloured lights, the tallest ones shooting 460ft up, into the air. The concierge tells us that they have this water show every 30 minutes, varying the accompanying songs. At the moment it's swaying and squirting and splashing in time with "My Heart Will Go On." We stand rooted to the spot, staring through the large frame windows of the hotel at the matchless view of rhythmic water gymnastics.

Christian drapes an arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer. Both our free arms reach for Chris, settling him against our legs, our palms crossing over his chest. My perfect little family - whole and complete, we revel in the beauty and the closeness, my heart bursting with affection for them. A strong surge of binding love pushes everything else out of my mind making me feel hopeful and at peace.

I sense Christian drinking in the swell of emotion and his gaze turns to mine, it's burning with a lightheaded intensity that conveys every inch of the depth of his feelings for us - so intense it becomes a physical sensation that I feel in the deepest part of my soul. I bask in the glow of it, praying that I'm able to show him the same. When his lips brush mine, I grab a fistful of his shirt collar to hold him to me, "I. Love. You. So. Much." I breathe into his mouth.

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine, his left hand tangles into my hair at the nape of my neck and his right pushes Chris deeper into our embrace. I'm not sure if our little boy knows what's going on above his head but he stands still, hopefully also soaking up the love surrounding him. "And I you Anastasia." A moment passes before he bends, gracefully scooping Chris up to joins us at our level, "I love you son." His words are gruff, looking at his boy with pure adoration. I turn, deeply touched, sandwiching Chris between us as I circle them both with my arms, holding their preciousness as close as I can.

The connection spins a powerful weave around us, making our surroundings slide from view until it's only the three of us – joined by passion and shared genes; Chris being the culmination, the embodiment of all the good between us.

When the world re-emerges I feel a lightness in my being, a new buoyancy that makes me beam my happiness to Christian, sending him a quiet message of trust and joy. By the delighted quirk of his brow I know that he understands and shares my sentiment.

Alec must've grasped the weight of the moment between us because he melts away, giving us the space to embrace our union. Taylor and Brandon is waiting unobtrusively in the background, they know better than to crowd their boss.

In the Executive Suite Lounge Chris and I wait on plush couches and enjoy a small snack that's laid out for guests. A few meters away, at the welcome desk Christian is dealing with the business end of our stay; even taking down your credit card information is a quiet, civilised experience at the Bellagio. No waiting, no frazzled staff, just friendly efficiency.

Brandon is keeping an eye on us while Taylor liaises with the hotel's security manager, it's obvious that the hotel is used to dealing with outside security as our team is welcomed and expertly briefed on local protocol.

Alec drives us to our villa on a white golf cart, the Bellagio logo is boldly displayed on the sides while Taylor follows us in a black cart that will be for their sole use during our stay. I notice that they're both wearing a Bellagio ID security tag around their necks, probably so that they can gain access to restricted areas around the hotel and casino.

From what I've seen so far the Villa's opulence isn't a surprise. It's perfectly in line with the hotel's commitment to being the best on the strip, nothing short of breathtaking. All the villas are set in a walled estate and each individual one is surrounded by its own perimeter wall offering utter seclusion.

We drive up to our private entrance and Alec opens the double volume doors then steps aside for us to enter. Chris runs ahead while Christian and I follow at a more sedate pace, I want to take it slow and enjoy the splendour. We walk into a welcoming foyer decorated with a glass chandelier. With the sun streaming in behind us, it catches the cut facets of the sparkling crystal drops, bathing the room in a prism coloured shower.

I gasp at the beauty then giggle when I find Christian's hooded gaze focussed solely on my reaction, heat stealing across my amazed face. His confident fingers slip a stray strand of hair behind my ear and then trail a gentle line along the curve of my jaw before he grips my chin, stealing a lick into my mouth as my lips part in surprise.

When his lips find my ear his seductive whisper travels right to the very core of me, "your giggling makes me hard." He pulls back and revels in my wide eyed shock with an impossibly sinful grin.

Chris' thrilled call to his dad leaves me alone with Alec to explore the villa in peace but not before Christian throws me a knowing smirk over his retreating back.

So it begins I think; the slow seduction of me, his bride on our wedding day – there's nothing he does better. Delicious thoughts and tingles compete for my attention as I find myself fantasising about the day and evening's plans…

When Alec clears his throat I flush again, red with embarrassment at my body's slavish response that I think must be as plain as day to see. I'm grateful for his poker-face which remains locked in a practised mask as he introduces me to an older man dressed in a traditional English butler's uniform that seemed to have simply appeared at his side.

"Ms Steele, please meet James. He will be at your service for the duration of your stay. Anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

I smile and extend my hand in greeting, "hello James, pleased to meet you."

With a slight bow of his head he returns my shake with a firm and dry grip, a touch of amusement softens his serious features, "the pleasure is mine ma'am. Welcome to the Bellagio. Anything you need; just let me know."

_Our very own butler!_

He has denim blue eyes and a reserved air that I suspect comes with having to be invisible and unruffled under almost all circumstances. When I ask for something to drink he seems pleased to have something to do and leaves us to our tour.

The three bedroom; seven bathroom villa is 8000 square feet of European designed overindulgence. It has a workout facility, a dry sauna, a massage room, a private hair salon, dining room, living room, kitchen, double sided fireplace and a fully stocked bar that I'm told by Alec is stocked with our personal favourite beverages.

Throughout the villa I see gorgeous fresh flower arrangements and I doubt it's a coincidence that they're mostly filled with Peonies, my favourite. Like everything else they are lavish, crammed to the max with the big, fluffy blooms, once again a testament to the hotel's exceptional level of care to detail. In the dining room awaits a mini feast of fruit, nuts, chocolates and petit fours that I look forward to indulging in. Alec pushes the French doors apart to reveal a stunning terrace, graced with overstuffed sun loungers next to an inviting plunge pool.

Planter boxes at the edge of the pool are filled with colourful blossoming shrubs, their shiny leaved tendrils spilling over the stone tiles. Each pot and plant is well tended and in full bloom, filling the air with a floral perfume that reminds me of lazy summers and the sun's kisses on my bare skin.

One side of the terrace opens to a cloistered, manicured garden. The lawn is so lush and green that it almost seems synthetic; I can't resist bending to sweep my hand across it – just to be sure. The grass has a satisfying spring to it and freshly mowed; a smell I love. I wave to my guys as they come ambling toward me, animated from their exploration of the walled-off oasis.

"Mommy, mommy look at the pool! And the grass! It's so soft!" I take in his little feet, shoes and sock discarded at the edge of the terrace, eagerly exchanged for the feel of thick grass between his toes.

"I know buddy, isn't it fantastic?" I push off my own shoes and pad onto the grass, delighting in the cool tickle beneath my soles. He takes my hand and pulls me down so we sit on the lawn. I grab his wrist, tugging him into a hug but he resists – playfully struggling so much that I topple over. Laughing we roll on the grass like puppies that've just been washed. Christian watches us with wry amusement before he follows suit, shucking his shoes and diving into the friendly tussling.

All three of us look up to find James waiting with a tray of lemonade. Still giggling I push myself up, "thank you James. This is my fiancée, Christian and our son Chris." I gesture to them, my heart filling with tenderness at the sight of my men playing. "Guys, this is our butler, James."

Christian waves from his prone position, Chris has him in a wrestling hold, overjoyed that he's managed to pin down his strong dad.

"A pleasure Mr Grey, Chris." James nods his greeting in that modest way he has, sunlight picking out the silver in his hair before he places the tray on an ornate wrought iron table with a travertine top. His mouth curves into a small smile as he looks to me, "may I?" he lifts a jug, dripping with condensation as the ice blocks tinkle gently, it looks delicious and refreshing.

"Yes please, for all of us." I get the impression that a happy family playing on the lawn is not something he sees very often; I wonder if he's ever seen guests take the time to appreciate a simple thing like grass.

Chris joins me in a flash, abandoning the tumbling match when he sees the icy drink. I pass him a glass and he drinks greedily, thirsty from playing outside. I pass Christian a glass when he's done dusting himself off and take one for myself, "thank you James. That was just what we needed."

"Thanks," Chris is breathless from drinking so fast and for a beat he studies James' uniform. "Why do you have a tail?" he asks James, tilting his head in fascination with the black coattails of his butler jacket.

In spite of his practiced detachment James laughs loudly, bellowing in genuine mirth along with Christian and me. We snort, trying hard to contain our amusement so we don't hurt his feelings.

James is the first to regain his composure, he bends forward whispering conspiratorially to Chris, "it's not a tail but it's very handy to wipe the tables with. Watch this." He winks and takes up a coattail tip, wiping across the table in an exaggerated demonstration.

Chris is enthralled, taking up the other to see for himself while Christian and I stem our giggles with our hands covering our smiling mouths. The hilarity of such a well-heeled butler doing such a playful thing is priceless and instantly ingratiates him to me.

Once he's cleared the empty glasses he mentions that Alec excused himself when we started romping in the garden, it doesn't surprise me that he took the cue to leave but I'm taken aback that I completely and rudely forgot about him. James leaves us with another reminder to ask for whatever we need.

Chris runs around the garden while we watch and chat. "Anastasia, do you mind if I take him with me while you get ready?"

I snap my eyes to him, shocked that he's asking for permission, "of course you can take him, please don't ask. He's your son." My tone is soft but firmly imploring. "You better tell Mia, she said she would come to help me get ready but I suspect it was a ruse to spend more time with him." I grin, showing him that I don't mind.

He chuckles, nodding his understanding, "you might be right, she's crazy about him." He catches the face of his watch and jumps up, "your stylist will be here any minute, come, I want to show you something."

"What stylist?" I shake my head, a flutter of panic licking at my belly. "I still have to dash to the stores in the hotel to see if I can find a wedding dress!" Christian doesn't stay to listen to my objection, he's already ducked inside.

A quick glance back tells me Chris will be fine under Brandon's unobtrusive watch from the far end of the pool but to be sure I call to him, "Brandon, I'll be inside, will you please watch Chris, especially around the pool?"

"Will do ma'am." He says and gives me a two finger salute, the tips touching the outer corner of his eyebrow.

I scuttle after Christian and find him in the opulent master suite, holding a large silver box and a slow burning heat in his slate gaze.

_Oh my! _

My panic subsides; I think I know what's in the box. I take a slow step forward, my pulse spiking, contradicting my tentative movement. My smile is shy when he passes the gift to me. "This is for you baby."

Gently, reverently I put it down on the bed and lift the lid. I feel him stiffen; giving me an inkling of how anxious he is for me to like it. I push aside the pale silver tissue paper and gasp at the sight, dismissing the momentary déjà vu I feel, yesterday I did the same thing with the dress that Dr Shawn sent me. There's a part of me that wonders whether Christian is deliberately trying to outdo that memory.

The dress, like all things Christian is without doubt the most beautiful garment I've ever seen. The bodice is strapless, covered with gossamer netting that comes together over the breasts, right up to the base of the neck where a string of pearls gathers and holds it up, tying it around the back.

Just below the breasts is a band of crystal embellishments, it joins with another crystal pattern that runs across the belly to one side where the soft fabric is ruched before it spreads into a flatteringly feminine A-line. The creamy satin fabric flows like liquid, warm and sensuous, classic with an interesting twist.

"Christian it's…" I shake my head, marvelling at the sheer beauty and his incredible talent to get it so right. I lay it out on the length of the bed, fingering the buttery smoothness in awe and unable to find my words.

"Do you like it?" his low voice reveals a vulnerability that I'm eager to dispel so I launch myself at him, knocking him on his back and kissing every exposed inch of his face and neck. "I (kiss) love (kiss) it (kiss) it's perfect (kiss) you (kiss) are (kiss) perfect (kiss) I (kiss) love (kiss) you." The last kiss I slant over his self-satisfied smile, he groans as I deepen it and his hand slips beneath my t-shirt and up my back.

When I break away the smile is gone, the force of his desire hits me hard, conveying just how much he wants me which sends my own libido into orbit. A desperate hand fists in my hair as he locks our stares, "tonight." The gruff promise tightens my nipples and slickens my thighs.

I can't resist him nor do I want to, with my lips parted to accommodate deeper gulps of air I revealed my urgent need for him. A fresh smirk tells me that needy and desperate was exactly where he wanted me.

In a quick, willowy move he sits up and pulls me onto his lap, he combs his fingers through my hair, tidying the stray strands. "I've arranged for a stylist to come see you here, she should be here shortly. She does hair and make-up. Everything you need for the wedding is in the box." He taps it, reminding me that I haven't had time to look through it properly.

"Thank you Christian." I cup both sides of his face. "The villa is gorgeous, you're gorgeous! I can't believe we're getting married!" I go from deeply sincere and grateful to incredulous and ecstatic in three seconds flat, shrieking excitedly as the enormity of the change over the last two days strikes me.

Christian's answering grin is boyish but the sensual pledge in his eyes remains, "we aim to please." After a kiss that's way too brief and chaste he continues, "Taylor will collect you and escort you to the helipad at four thirty."

"No questions." He chastises me when he sees my brow lift in curiosity so my mouth snaps shut. He laces his fingers through mine then works the engagement ring off my finger, "until later." He whispers then pockets the ring. Instantly I feel naked, incomplete.

A discreet cough turns my head to the doorway while Christian slides me off his lap before he stands to take his leave.

"Mr Grey, Miss Candy Devon to see Ms Steele." James announces the arrival of the stylist in his overly formal manner.

"Thank you James, please show her in." Christian slips his arms around my waist when James strides away to receive my guest. "I'll get Chris ready, don't be late, I can't wait to see you in that dress."

I shove my hands into his back pockets to hold him to me, "I can't wait to be Mrs Grey again."

I love watching the change come over him, shifting from regular Christian to smoking hot sex-on-legs as he sucks in a breath, clearly turned on by the idea, "neither can I baby." After a final kiss he leaves me, impatient for our new chapter to begin.

A short blonde with a voluptuous figure struts into the suite, her arm outstretched she drawls with a cute southern accent, "hi there darlin' I'm Candy."

"Hi Candy, nice to meet you." Her pumping shake is firm and her eyes are friendly.

"Just look at you miss natural beauty and getting married today huh?" she sweeps a keen eye up and down my body. "Show me the dress honey, what do you want?"

"I was thinking hair down, soft curls maybe pinned with flowers?" while talking I show her the dress, holding it up against me.

She taps a blood red talon against her pouty lips, closely cropped curls bouncing as she inclines her head – assessing. "That's a mighty fine dress you got there! Yes, we keep it simple, light make-up, bronzer and loose, sexy curls. I like it."

"Bye mommy!" Chris yells from somewhere inside of the villa, obviously on his way to leave with Christian.

"Excuse me for a moment will you Candy?"

"Sure honey, go do your thing." She waves me away.

Chris is with Christian in the foyer on their way out. "Hey buddy, were you going to leave without giving your old mom a cuddle?"

He looks contrite for a beat then rectifies the situation with a wet kiss on my cheek when I pick him up. "I love you little man, be good for daddy. I'll see you later; when daddy and I get married."

He looks to Christian, "will you stay with us daddy? You can share my bed if you want." His bighearted offer is a testament to how much he missed a father figure in his life.

Christian's gaze is indulgent and amused, "Thank you champ, that's a very kind offer. How about you and mommy come and stay with me?"

Anxious eyes swing back to me, "can we mommy? Please, please can we?"

"How can I say no to the two of you?" I ruffle his hair and kiss him goodbye.

"That was easy. No arguments from you?" Christian teases me, apparently surprised by my undemanding acquiescence.

I put on my best pouty face, "argue? Me? Never!" Bambi style blinking eyes proclaiming my innocence.

Christian harrumphs, unconvinced. "See you soon baby." He takes Chris' hand and leads him to a waiting golf cart.

I direct Candy to the private hair salon where she spreads her beautifying stuff around while I take a quick shower.

Candy is a hoot, while she's curling my hair she tells me about all the celebrities she's had the pleasure of styling, I'm happy to sit back and relax, listening to her quip about their crazy antics. Even though I've only worn my engagement ring for a few hours my left thumb keeps feeling for the reassuring band on my ring finger, disappointed every time it's not there.

Candy mentions that her whole family moved to Vegas when she was a senior in high school, her siblings all work for the casinos in one way or another except for the black sheep of the family, her brother who has a tattoo parlour on the strip. I smile remembering Christian joking about tattooing his signature across my chest, a permanent sign to mark me as his and it gives me an idea.

"Candy, do you think your brother could come here, right now and do something for me?"

Her brows shoot up and I explain my plan to get her on board. When her surprise turns into a mischievous grin, I know that she'll do whatever she can to help me. She reaches for her phone and James appears at the door.

"Ms Steele, Mrs Trevelyan-Grey and Miss Grey to see you." My joy fizzles out like the air leaving a balloon. Instinct tells me it would be best to sort everything out before the wedding but I'm reluctant, if I somehow manage to make it worse the wedding might become a strained affair, I might even have to cancel it.

"Please show them in James." Discreet as ever he doesn't blink at the turn my mood has taken.

When Grace strides into the small salon sans Mia I ask Candy to give us a moment, she clearly wants to talk.

I offer her a seat that she takes then regards me for a long minute. "Oh Ana," she starts, the misgiving lilt not leaving any room for misinterpreting her disappointment.

My mouth turns down, unhappy that I've hurt her. The sting behind my eyes and the burn in the back of my throat, warning me of threatening tears.

She sighs, "darling girl, to be honest I knew that Christian wasn't telling us the whole truth but I'd be lying if I said I expected the depth of your senselessness. The pair of you, walking around with shattered hearts for so long and Chris without a father!" She twists a tissue with her fingers, the corners of her mouth quivering, hinting at her own unshed tears.

_What can I say?_ She's right. It doesn't seem that Christian's chat helped any, now she's mad at both of us!

"Grace, all I can say is that I'm sorry. I know what I did; I understand if you can't look past it, it's unforgivable."

Her head snaps up, a V drawing her brows together, "Ana, I'll get over it, I always loved you like a daughter even though we had you for such a short time, I'll never forget what you did for Christian and now you've given me my first grandson."

Clear, large eyes search mine, hopeful yet tentative, "the thing that I find hard to deal with is how unnecessary it all was, I want to be certain that going into this new marriage the two of you are willing to communicate. There's really very little in a marriage that can't be fixed with honest communication. If you can't talk to each other then come and talk to me or anyone just please talk before you do anything stupid!" She bashes her fist into her open palm, insistent.

I flinch at her rising voice; she's worked herself into quite a state, her beseeching, passionate speech pointing out the simple and obvious solution to my foolishness - too late for 20/20 hindsight.

"I can give you that." I raise my eyes to meet hers, longing to show her my unwavering intention to get it right this time.

She lets go of a long breath, slowly pushing it through the ring of her lips. "Thank you." Her gaze still holds mine, tracking any haunting uncertainty that I might still retain. When she finds none she smiles, "okay, discussion over, let's get you hitched to my son – for good." The warning in her watch brooks no argument from me, I'm only too happy to comply.

I suspect she's touched by the dazzling and relieved beam I show her because she envelops me in a welcoming hug. Just like that I'm back in the Grey fold, her trust and forgiveness gratefully accepted. She will forever be a beautiful example of what kind of mother I'd like to be for Chris.

When Grace leaves; Mia takes her place and by her unsmiling face it's evident that Grace has filled her in. She storms in like a dainty bull, puffing angry breaths. "What were you thinking?"

I groan inwardly, every conversation I've had about this has started the same way, begging the question if I was thinking at all. "I'm sorry Mia, I was stupid, selfish and thoughtless, I know I should've said something or tried harder but I never believed that I deserved your brother's love, I've regretted it every day." The shame that's always simmering, ready to show itself is forcing my look down. The mortified blush is evidence of my remorse written boldly.

She jerks back like she's taken a blow, large eyes stunned, "okay then." She backs right down, holding her hands up in surrender. "I don't think I can stay mad at you anyway."

Her shift in gear is so immediate, so absolute that I'm alarmed. I slip off my chair and grasp her shoulders, "Mia what's wrong?"

"You want me to be mad at you?" It's a blatant distraction technique to hide the truth behind her sudden deflation.

"No, though I understand if you are but that's not what I'm talking about and I think you know what I mean." My voice is low, coaxing. My heart already hurts for her; she's always so full of life.

When she finally looks at me I can see the shimmering film of tears on the surface, "I've made some mistakes – in love," she clarifies, "mistakes I regret. What you and Christian have – Ana, don't let it slip away. It's so precious." Her voice turns hoarser as she speaks, tears spilling from eyes that hold regret.

"I won't, I promise." We find each other in a comforting embrace, silent while she absorbs my vow.

She tries to make light of the emotional moment when we pull apart, "you better, I'll hunt you down if you hurt him." She wags a reprimanding finger at me, failing miserably to look anything but broken.

I ignore her tactic to change the subject, "Mia, I don't like to see you like this. What can I do? Do you want to talk?"

She shakes her head, glossy locks swinging around her sad face, "another time maybe."

It's obvious that she's not ready to talk, I'll just have to be there for her when she is, "anytime you want to talk, I'll be there. I know what it's like to do something so insanely stupid that it nearly wrecks your life. After the wedding we'll be moving back to Seattle." I push up her chin to find her teary stare, "I mean it Mia, look where "not talking" got me. Promise me we'll get together for a heart-to-heart."

She nods; a solemn gesture that has worry for her bleeding into my consciousness.

James appears with Candy and presumably her brother in tow, "Ms Steele, Mr Ben Devon for you."

I give Mia's shoulders a last squeeze, hating to leave her like this. She picks up on my hesitation and gives me a thin smile, "go on, you've get a wedding to get ready for."

"Please stay Mia; you said you'd help me get ready." I wheedle, it would be better to keep her busy where I can keep a watchful eye on her.

It works straightaway, a lightness touches her features, "okay, I'll just tell mum, she can send my outfit over here." She skips away, her gloom already forgotten.

The next hour is a race against a clock dead set on beating us. The time frame Christian left me with wasn't much to start off with so, the race is on. Candy and her brother work at break-neck speed, sure and practiced hands labouring in creative unison. I give Candy and Ben a big thankyou hug and leave them, heading for the bedroom to change when she's done applying the final expert touches to my face.

Apart from the extraordinarily stunning dress, the box reveals more exquisite surprises as Mia and I dig through the layers of tissue paper. We find a pair of heels, delicate wedges with criss-crossing straps over the toes adorned with sparkling crystals. A perfect match that would barely be peeping from the seam of the dress.

A small box in the corner has my heart jumping – jewellery. Mia and I exchange a look before I pop the lid. Striking oval hoops in platinum has a fat pearl dangling from the bottom - so simple, so elegant. "Wow," my breathless wonderment has Mia giggling.

"You can't fault Christian's taste," a rueful grin curving her mouth in admiration as her old sparkle returns to her bright eyes. The pale pink chiffon of her dress flatters the new, rosy radiance on her cheeks perfectly and I'm thrilled that, for the moment, she seems herself again.

Underneath my robe I'm already wearing the panties I found in the box. The champagne lace is sheer and delicate, so fine that I was careful not to pierce it with a nail when I pulled it on. The boy leg style is sexy and demure at the same time, cutting cross my backside with a scalloped edge. Because the dress has a built in bra and I'm wearing open toed shoes I'm mystified at the matching bra plus stockings and garter set in the same champagne lace. _Mmhh, maybe it's for later…_

Mia unzips the dress and helps me into it, my hand holding on to her upper arm for balance. I turn toward the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the double doors of the closet in front of the bed to check out the complete look.

Mia's gaping face is visible over my shoulder and I wear the twin expression. We both stare at my reflection in utter astonishment. Together with the dress that does amazing things for my figure, especially my breasts, I look fantastic. The sheen of the satin is a pearly liquid that falls in soft lines. The bodice pushes up just enough to lift my breasts invitingly but without being gauche, it creates an alluring, gentle swell and slope.

My hair is loose, trailing down my back in lazy curls, pinned from my face with fragrant, real blooms. Candy has stuck to the brief and kept my make-up light, the bronzer providing a beautiful glow.

The dress is nothing short of perfection - it's a thoughtful, touching gift from Christian, the ideal colour for a second wedding, it suits me so well because he knows me – intimately. A precious symbol of our new start that stirs a myriad of contented feelings in my overflowing heart.

"Ana, you look…, breathtaking!" she exclaims in hushed awe.

My hand covers hers where it rests on my bare shoulder, "Thank you Mia," I catch her gaze in the mirror, "and thank you for helping me." My wide smile is prettily answered by hers.

A knock on the door has my heart in a flutter as unexpected wedding jitters skitter down my spine. Taylor is here; time to become Mrs Grey again.


	23. Chapter 23

**TA-DA! The long awaited wedding chapter. I hope you enjoy. Thank you for the thoughtful and thorough reviews, please take the time to do so once you've read this one.**

Chapter 23

Christian must've arranged it with Charlie Tango's pilot beforehand because the rotor blades are motionless when Taylor escorts Mia and me onto the helipad so it doesn't mess-up our outfits and hair. Taylor introduces us to Frank who will be flying us today as I carefully clip myself into the harness thinking that it's the first time I get to do it, Christian always takes way too much pleasure from the task to ever let me have a turn.

Mia helps me put the protective headphones on before the blades start whirring loudly. We grin at each other, excited. I wonder what Christian has in store for us. Even though we can talk through the headsets with a Madonna-style mike we remain silent, choosing instead to take in the scenery through the bubble shaped windows.

My heartbeat is a frantic gallop as an electrifying anticipation swirls around us, amping up the slow turn of nerves in my belly. The late afternoon sun is low and golden, colouring everything in a warm hue that settles it all with a hush of romance.

We touchdown on a grassy field and wait for the blades to come to a standstill before we exit the Eurocopter. Taylor opens an icebox and hands me a stunning bouquet of creamy lilies threaded with trailing ivy leaves. The straight line of his mouth an ever present reminder that he still hasn't forgiven me. The challenge he presents only makes me more determined to show him that this time I'll do better.

The Red Rock setting is simply breathtaking. The sun is almost kissing the horizon of a gently tinkling stream, reflecting flickering gold sparks, the backdrop of mountains with their fiery red cliffs, in spite of their distance, makes the outdoor setting feel private, contained. Next to the water, on the grassy bank our wedding party beckons; the air pregnant with the promise of a happy-ever-after.

Closest to our landing spot I see Ray looking dapper in a beautifully tailored tux standing beside an arch that's decorated with flowers and crystal strings. They sway slowly in the light breeze making them seem luminescent as they catch the last light of the dipping sun. Beyond that, a walkway strewn with petals leads to a small grouping of white chairs that is already occupied by our very intimate number of guests. It flanks a path leading to a gazebo where a heart-stoppingly handsome Christian is waiting for me with our son at his side.

Ray's expression is warm when he embraces me, whispering encouragement before he offers me his arm. Mia's taken up a seat next to Grace who beams me a smile, tendering a much longed-for welcome. On the other side of the isle my mom is clutching a tissue to her chest, overcome but smiling through her slipping tears of joy. Bob is beside her, offering his quiet support. She waves and winks at me as I walk past and I can't help stopping for a sentimental hug before taking up my place beside my groom.

Christian and Chris are both dressed in matching tuxedos. Where Chris looks adorable in his, Christian fills it with a body made to worship, giving the suit angles that has my mind running on a single track. The heat in his summer storm gaze confirms equal parts of love and desire, my skin tingling with racy goose bumps as I shiver in anticipation.

After another hug from Ray he shakes Christian's hand and takes a seat on the other side of my mom. Christian holds out a hand to me, palm up it beckons me into our new future and I take it using both mine to let him help me up the two steps. The symbolism isn't lost on either of us - me grabbing hold of our union with both hands and his eyes turn darker, ceaselessly conveying his own investment in our fated, irrevocably intertwined lives.

He leans in and kisses me gently, his sensual mouth hovering close as he breathes me in before his lips find my ear, "you are a stunning vision Anastasia; I hope I'm not dreaming."

He hears the catch in my breath and pulls away with a crooked grin; I'm so caught up in him, blinking and shy and thoroughly seduced.

His smile widens, eyes glowing warm with love, "breathe," he mouths at me.

The world around slowly returns and I bend to press Chris to me, his face as serious as I've ever seen it, even a four year old grasps the gravity of the moment. I love him more for being so wise, emotionally attuned.

I already adore this wedding, casual enough to stop and hug a family member but with all the romantic trimmings a girl-heart yearns for. Christian, as usual, has outdone himself. A sweeping unworthiness threatens my happiness and I quash it quickly, I'm going to soak it up and enjoy every beautiful detail because that's what he'd want me to do – simply accept it as something he wants to share with me.

After a steadying breath we face the Reverend who starts the ceremony talking about what it means to work on a marriage. I feel every word, hear every nuance as I try to internalise the sage words of advice he preaches. I'm so deeply absorbed that I'm surprised when he announces that it's time to exchange our vows.

Considering the incredibly short notice I've had I didn't prepare anything specific but there was something I was keen to say so I figured I couldn't do much better than to speak straight from my heart.

We turn to each other and Mia lithely rises to take my bouquet so I can grasp both of Christian's hands. Lifting my head to look up, into his familiar face, I feel my own turn tender with feeling.

"Christian, the love I feel for you is not something I can describe, something I can define or make small with words because it's not just a feeling, a known and named emotion but it has become a part of me, the very nature of my being and without it I am less. Less happy, less brave, less me. You are the part that fills me into a complete and healthy whole. I commit to open myself to you, to share my life with you - the secrets, the dreams, the fears so that you can know me in every way. I want to share in yours, to be exactly what you need me to be at any given moment. I trust you completely, knowing that your love will always put me and our child first and for this I will **obey** you as a wife who has every faith in her husband's sound judgement and loving intentions." I blow out a long, quiet breath, having laid my world at his feet.

Christian's eyes grow large, becoming impossibly dark before he closes them, breathing deeply he tips his head back as if revelling in an exquisite sensation. He squeezes my hands, almost hard enough to hurt before he finds my gaze. It's clear that he's had a powerful reaction to my words; I feel it vibrating off him and he pulls me close, kissing me senseless long before the traditional "you may kiss the bride" bit.

Our guests gasp along with the Reverend who clears his throat at Christian's unconventional timing – no one but the two of us really understanding the true significance of my submission. I'm thrilled that I've managed to move him so deeply, to give him a gift that can compete with the immeasurable joy he's given me.

When our lips part a pleasing serenity settles over his features, I slip the ring that Chris just passed me onto his finger. His smile is something to behold, a potent mixture of love and joy that overpowers my senses and I relish basking in the brightness of it.

_Oh my! How did I ever convince myself to walk away from this?_

Still holding my hand Christian nods to the Reverend who hands him the wireless microphone he has in his hand. Christian looks down and takes a breath before his soulful eyes find mine. He lifts the mike to his lips and, to our utter astonishment, begins to sing, an old song by Depeche Mode called Somebody. No music, just his voice – a cappella song as a vow, impossibly romantic.

_I want somebody to share_

_Share the rest of my life_

_Share my innermost thoughts_

_Know my intimate details_

_Someone who'll stand by my side_

_And give me support_

_And in return_

_She'll get my support_

_She will listen to me _

_When I want to speak_

_About the world we live in_

_And life in general_

_Though my views may be wrong_

_They may even be perverted_

_She'll hear me out_

_And won't easily be converted_

_To my way of thinking _

_In fact she'll often disagree_

_But at the end of it all_

_She will understand me_

_Aaaahhhhh..._

_I want somebody who cares_

_For me passionately_

_With every thought _

_With every breath_

_Someone who'll help me see things _

_In a different light_

_All the things I detest_

_I will almost like _

_I don't want to be tied_

_To anyone's strings_

_I'm carefully trying to steer clear of_

_Those things_

_But when I'm asleep_

_I want somebody_

_Who will put their arms around me _

_And kiss me tenderly_

_Though things like this_

_Make me sick_

_In a case like this _

_I'll get away with it_

_And in a place like this _

_I'll get away with it_

_Aaaahhhhh..._

I've never been more grateful for Candy and her insistence of double strength waterproof mascara, there's simply no hope in staying the tears that fall so freely at his phenomenal display of love and commitment. It effortlessly obliterates every voice that tells me otherwise, every thought that sows doubt.

His warm gaze doesn't waver for even a second, keeping me entranced, spellbound. Where his voice catches on a word, the emotion too strong I feel my heart squeeze with love so much it hurts.

This song, this man, this moment couldn't be any more perfect, more poignant. It explodes with joy, holding more than any one time should reasonably be able to.

My wide smile pushes so hard at my cheeks that they begin to ache a little, I'm sure I look silly, goofy even, beaming at him with not only my mouth but with my whole soul.

When he ends the song he bends to get my ring from Chris and I take the opportunity to rip the flesh coloured band aid off before his attention is back with me. Gently he takes my hand, raising it between us with his eyes firmly fixed onto mine. Without looking down he slides it up my finger and just as I think that he'll miss it he looks down.

His head lashes up, shock quickly making way for laughter as he throws his head back, chuckling deeply as he enjoys the ring tattooed onto my finger. After a second he palms my wedding band, throwing my hand up for all to see. Our families laugh along as they shake their heads, amused.

He presses my hand to his lips, kissing the fresh red edges of the tattoo and then gently guides the ring into place. I love that I could surprise him like this; given the time frame I don't think he expected anything and it amplifies the gesture, making it extra special – just like all the beautiful, wonderful things he always does for me.

The Reverend starts on the last and most important line, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may…"

Christian wastes no time, in an instant he has me plastered against him, one hand pressing firmly on the small of my back the other on my jaw as his hot mouth covers mine, the kiss - only just the right side of decent. My hands curl around the solid ridges of his straining biceps, holding on for the wild ride of his possessive kiss.

_Holy cow!_

When he's done I answer his elated grin but my head is spinning, reeling from my overheated blood and brimming happiness. I'm thrilled when he picks Chris up, slotting him onto his hip to involve him fully in our jubilant occasion. We turn, Christian securing me to his free side to face our guests as Mr and Mrs Grey once more.

Our small party stand and clap their accord to our new union as we step down into the circle of their congratulations.

To the far side of the gazebo I notice a pergola sunken into the end of a grassed terrace that leads close to the edge of the stream. A lush green creeper trails up the fat pillars to weave a dense canopy over the wooden slats of the roof. Underneath a long table is set, decorated in silver and crisp white. A mood setting chandelier hangs low, creating a gorgeous ambient glow as the sun finally sinks away. The floor is strewn with a thick carpet of white rose petals, their exquisite scent mingling with fresh grass and rushing water – a smell that makes you happy to be alive.

I drink in the beauty and the fragrance as Christian leads us to the table where we all take a seat together. I notice that everyone carries a camera and I realise it's so that we'll have captured images from each loved one's point of view – such a lovely idea, it eliminates the need for an official photographer but still gives us glossy paper memories we can pour over to remember our day.

Again the nature of the small gathering strikes me as special. Our family members are relaxed and happy, chatting animatedly like they would around the dinner table at home. Christian catches me watching them, his loving glow still fixed in place, "tell me what you're thinking about Mrs Grey?" his low voice is sexy and hearing him say my new name makes me melt.

I can't help smiling, it seems like my mouth is pinned into the grinning position, "Mr Grey I have to tell you that I've never been happier. That was so thoughtful and beautiful. Thank you for making it so precious." I brush my fingertips gently down the side of his face before leaning in for another taste of his inviting lips.

The popping camera flashes drag me away from him and our heads swivel to our snap-happy guests, both of us smiling sheepishly making them all chuckle. When their attention is drawn back to their respective conversations we face each other once more.

"You're most welcome Mrs Grey," his voice is velvet, stirring and sensual. He drops his gaze to my left hand and takes it in his, "I love this," he says and kisses my tattooed finger, the raspy quality of his tone has my toes curling in my shoes. "And I loved your vows," a naughty glint sparks in his darkening eyes, "you do know that I'll be keeping you to them."

The butterflies in my belly suddenly take flight, causing my breath to hitch before I reply. Speaking to him with my lips almost touching his, I mirror his cheeky look, "Oh I hope so Mr Grey, I hope so."

When his mouth opens in surprise I take advantage, gently biting then hungrily kissing him. A low hum vibrates in his chest sending hot shivers over my entire body. "I wanted us to have our first dance before the starter but now it'll have to wait." He breathes husky words beside my ear.

Perplexed I look at him, my teeth finding my lip - now a little swollen from moulding to his. His watch drops to his lap and my eyes follow, delighted to see the thick ridge outlining his desire. I blush and giggle, feeling like a schoolgirl.

Grace places a hand on his arm and starts to ask him something so I resume watching our families interact. I love how they get along and how Chris is being passed from one to the next; never left alone and enjoying the attention he's getting from his adoring grandparents and aunt.

Our starter is delicious, a light salmon mousse with an avocado and orange segment salsa that compliments the outdoor setting perfectly. That is soon followed by a beef fillet medallion, topped with an amazing truffle and peppercorn jus. The fillet rests on a bed of sweet potato and parsnip mash, beautifully presented with droplets of sauce scattered in dark pearls around the plate.

After the main is served Christian's chair scrapes back as he stands raising a golden glass to me, "my bride, you've made me the happiest man alive. Thank you." The tender mix of pride and warmth I see in his face curls through my veins, engaging all my senses in its wake. As the delighted flush steals over my features his loving gaze deepens.

For a moment our stares fuse and we're lost in each other before he remembers himself. He flashes our guests a lopsided grin and shakes his head, like me - taken aback by the intensity that's brewing between us. "Thank you mom, dad, Ray, Carla, Bob and of course my favourite sister, Mia for coming along to share this day with us."

"I'm your only sister!" Mia pipes up, giggling adoringly at him. A gentle ripple of laughter follows. Christian rewards her with an indulgent smile while lifting Chris into his arms, he continues, "yes, that too." He winks in her direction. "It's been awesome having you here champ," he rubs Chris' arm before pulling him close for a hug. I watch Chris's arms slide around Christian's neck and a tranquillity settles over me – all is right with the world right now. Their embrace is so sweet I can't resist joining their hug.

Apparently our families agree because six faces are watching us – beatific smiles proclaiming of their shared rapture.

"I have an e-mail from Kate and Elliot that I'd like to read and then I'm taking my stunning bride for a dance." He shakes out the fold of a single sheet of paper.

_Dear Christian and Anastasia_

_We know that the road to this moment wasn't always easy or clear but we do know that you belong together. We're delighted for you and wish you love and trust, patience and kindness, joy and respect as you make your way through life's journey. As a family you will be stronger, safer, happier and we relish sharing in that bliss with you._

_We're sorry to have missed your day in person but know that we're with you as we carry you in our thoughts and hearts._

_Our love and support to you always,_

_Elliot and Kate Grey_

Except for the song Christian sang during the ceremony, I've been able to swallow the numerous lumps from swelling into tears in response to the strong emotions this day has brought but now, my resolve wanes as the touching letter crowds along with all the other sentiments swirling in my heart. Big fat tears brim then slide over my cheeks as I get swept away in the current of my emotions. I'm just grateful that it's happy tears.

I adore that Christian anticipated my reaction and pulls me close, his strong body and beautiful mind a constant support for me to rely on. His thumbs carefully brush away the tear tracks then he hauls me to the small dance floor right beside the table.

As I recognise the first strains of Amazed by Lonestar I nestle into him, my head under his chin I hear his heartbeat, feel his vitality and find my inner peace – my subconscious, my inner goddess and I all in total consonance.

_How I love this man!_

Christian takes a turn with Grace, Mia and my mom while I do the same with Carrick, Ray and Bob. It's wonderful to see their happiness for us and for the time being the dark danger of our threat is pushed into a corner of my mind where I can ignore it.

Over our decadent dessert, a trio of chocolate mousse, I hear my mom and Grace negotiate a schedule for looking after Chris over the next two days. Christian squeezes my hand as he tunes into the same conversation, "I'm sorry we can't stay longer. I'll take you on a proper honeymoon once this whole thing blows over." He makes a vague gesture with his hand and his eyes cloud, the weight of worry never quite leaving him.

I look into his eyes and smile a shy smile, "I don't need a honeymoon. I just want to be with you. This wedding has been a big enough gift." I lace our fingers together and bring his hand up to my face, brushing the back of it against my cheek before kissing it.

He half smiles, enigmatic then runs his nose along mine, "you happy for Chris to stay with the grandparents tonight?"

Immediately my blood ignites, pulsing through my veins at the mere thought of the rest of the night. "Yes," blushing deeply I swallow. "I think that will be best." I look at him through my lashes and wonder if he can hear the freight train that is my heart.

A sexy, knowing smirk tugs at his lips while he trails a finger along my jaw, "then if it's all the same to you, I'd like to get into those panties now." His husky rasp and naughty words have me squeezing my thighs together in a useless bid to relieve the desperate ache that's suddenly spawned there.

A second later I feel his hand under the skirt of my dress, the satin softly rusting as I look around for curious family eyes. They're all delightfully engaged with each other and I try to focus on keeping my breathing even. Christian leans even closer, "I'll bet anything that you're soaking and ready for me."

If anyone bothered to look at us right now my scarlet flush and parted lips would be a dead giveaway. Christians hand skates over the naked flesh of my leg then gently rims the lace on my inner thighs that I part for him, "hush baby, I won't let anyone see," he says in response to my stiffening body.

"Aahh!" I suck in some air as he pushes straight through the delicate lace, easily slipping a digit inside me because wet doesn't begin to describe my condition. I hear his quiet, appreciative growl, still keeping my eye on our guests though I've stopped caring for now. Just as I begin to relax, wanting more, he stops and sits up, the adventurous hand curls over his mouth and under his nose - like he's thoughtful about something but he takes a deep lungful.

_Whoa!_

Our gazes are locked as he smells me and I whimper, feeling my belly make a full turn inside my hungry body. "You better go hug your son; you're going to be very busy over the next two days." He flashes me a wicked grin, dripping with erotic meaning.

With my heart slamming into my chest I push myself up on quivering legs, the ache inside escalating to a raging torrent of need for him.

We both make the rounds amongst our loved ones, hugging and thanking our way to the waiting helicopter. Lastly I pick up my little boy and hug him tight, "I love you so much! Thank you for being such a good boy today. Will you be okay staying with gran tonight?"

His happy grin and keen bobbing head is answer enough, "bye mommy. Thank you for my new daddy." He kisses me and throws an arm around my neck, thrilled but his words strike me like a blow. It's my fault that he only got that daddy now.

Past my constricting throat I choke out an answer for him, "you're welcome buddy, I'm sorry it's taken so long." I clutch him to me, in a way trying to make up for it by loving him more.

Christian joins us and takes him from me, swinging him into the air. Chris chortles, his eyes sparking with delight; seeing them together goes some way to appease my guilt.

I'm amused that it's Carrick who comes to take him from Christian. I always respected him but found him a little distant, formal. Now I get to see a whole new side of him, enamoured with Chris he's the picture of the doting grandfather. I delight in how well it suits him and smile warmly at the pair of them.

"Thanks dad, we'll be in touch. Maybe we should all get together for lunch tomorrow?" he shakes Carrick's hand before they hug – man style, slapping each other on the back.

"I'll set it up," he winks at me and strides off to the table and his wife.

Christian pulls me to his side, his arm sliding around my waist he kisses my temple, "I can't wait to get you naked Mrs Grey."

"Mmhh, two whole days of your undivided attention?" I look up to find a lustful glint in his darkening gaze, a payload of promise behind them.

I shiver in spite of the heat radiating from him and my core, delicious lashings of anticipation making me long for even the slightest touch. I feel it building between us as we fly back to the Bellagio, as we are driven to the front door of our villa.

Christian doesn't make any move to touch me again, instead of talking his eyes feast on me, roaming over every curve, he let his heated watch linger on the swell of my breasts and then on my feet; clad in the sexy sandals as I cross my legs and squirm in the backseat.

"Pull up your dress Anastasia, show me your legs." His low voice is quiet, just for me to hear but loud in my head, making me burn for him. I can tell that he's stripping me in his mind, his own desire naked and fanning mine to levels I didn't know existed. Slowly I pull up my dress, up to my knees then look at him, my teeth sinking into my lip to stop me from moaning. Even my own touch is arousing me.

Without words he tells me to reveal more, his head gesturing up, his fingertips rub against each other as he restrains himself from touching me. I drag more of my dress along my legs, up to the middle of my thighs. I watch as he licks his lips, his eyes fused to the exposed length of my tanned skin, his breath coming in shorter bursts. He loosens his tie and pops the top button of his dress shirt. I'm thrilled seeing him getting turned on.

I want him so badly that I'm beginning to feel his hands on me even though he was keeping them to himself. When the car stops in front of the villa I sigh in relief, half afraid that I was going to come without the benefit of his expert stimulation. I watch him stalk around the car, his predatory body language conveying his carnal intent all too clearly.

Not even waiting for Taylor to open the door for him; he strides over to my side and helps me to my feet before he scoops me up. I squeal, my breathless giggle eliciting a hungry look from him. I band my arms around his neck, pressing against him as much as I can; I kiss and lick along the prickling skin of his neck and jaw drawing a low groan from him that rockets my need into hyper drive.

Miraculously all the doors are open as he carries me to the privacy of the villa lounge, kicking them closed as we go. He sets me down and finally kisses me – deeply. His ravenous mouth easily coaxing mine open for him, moulding, licking, biting, tasting. I get lost in the sensation, letting my hands drift over his back and delectable behind, drawing him as close as possible to me.

He breaks our sensual contact, leaving me blinking up at him, uncertain whether I could stand without him holding me up. His gorgeous smile reaches through the fog in my head as I find my breath, pulse racing.

"I. Want. You. So. Much." His finger is tracing slow circles over my rapidly rising chest then he dips his finger down the edge of the strapless bodice – almost but not quite extending to my straining nipples.

I mewl, staring into his smouldering eyes, transfixed and dissatisfied with the sudden physical distance between us, "so take me then." I push myself up onto my toes tilting my head back, offering my mouth to tempt him into another kiss. My hands bracket his hips, ready to feel him against me again.

He chuckles as his lips brush mine lightly, teasing, "I think you should go and get dressed." The timbre in his voice betrays his need, confusing me with his request.

"I thought you wanted me naked." I nip at his bottom lip, my body screaming for his amorous attention.

"Mmhh, I do but first, I want to unwrap you." He purposely maintains the chasm between us, driving my desire ever higher.

The contents of the box springs to my mind, images of me in the champagne lace of the garter and the beautiful matching balcony bra that will push up my breasts in the most enticing way tantalise me just as I know will tantalise him. The sheer stockings that will end mid-thigh, leaving an alluring length of exposed skin for him to feel and kiss steers my will to the bedroom.

I give him my most coquettish smile and turn to leave but he catches me around the waist, "don't be long," he growls, sweeping my hair to the side he drops a kiss on my shoulder while he eases down the zipper of my dress. He holds my hand to help me step out of it then smacks my behind, leaving a hot handprint behind as I scuttle off to get ready. I'm careful to hide my delighted smile, Master Grey might be back sooner than I was expecting.

**Chapter 24 to follow – please don't forget to review.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Well… uh… yes… blush, consider yourself warned….**

**Thank you for the awesome wedding reviews, I was feeling the pressure for that one, I'm thrilled that you liked it. Please be kind and review!**

Chapter 24

My heart is beating in time with the pulsing need in my sex as I root through the box for the lacy bits I seek. Christian is always seductive, sensual but today he's gone out of his way to tease and hike up my desire – I'm ravenously ready.

For a moment I wonder what to do about the panties, Christian's avaricious fingers tore right through them under the dinner table, there's no point in keeping them on. I make a mental note to always buy two pairs of panties with every set of lingerie I purchase as I hook my thumbs underneath and slip them off. I reach for the beautiful bra, giggling to myself - such a waste; I probably won't keep it on for very long.

I fasten the garter around my hips and as I bend to slip the silk stocking over my toes I catch sight of the perfect red hand shape on my rump in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the closet doors in front of the bed. The image darts straight to my core and again I have to bite my lip to stop my impatient moan from escaping. A hot flush races over my skin, almost matching the hot pink of the handprint.

Just as my fumbling, hurried fingers clip the last slide in place and I run my hands from my ankle, along my leg to smooth the stocking I feel Christian's presence behind me. From my vantage point I can only see his sexy naked feet peeking from beneath the black tuxedo slacks, I blush deeper thinking of the view he must have of me, pantyless and bent over like this.

The admiring sound he makes can only be described as a feral growl, "stay as you are," his masculine, commanding rasp almost has me convulsing on the spot. His hands bracket my hips; firmly he pulls them further back as he grinds himself into my behind. "Fuck," he hisses, "so beautiful, so hot."

"Please Christian," I raise my head, begging already. Looking at him in the mirror as he stands behind me I catch the hunger that flares in his eyes as well as the image of the two of us in this sexy pose and I nearly lose my breath.

_Holy shit that's hot! _

I'm transfixed, eyes glued to our reflection I watch him bow over me as he runs a flat palm from my neck right along my spine. I feel his body heat soaking into me, the ripple of his stomach muscles as he moves, visible in the open line of his unbuttoned dress shirt. His hand comes to rest on the handprint, like he's confirming it's his own. A devilish smile curls his mouth before he gently caresses it, sending hot shivers rocketing through me.

Again his hand glides up my back, this time fisting in my hair as he pulls me up and against him, almost aggressively. With my back fused to his front, he regards me in the mirror, his darkened gaze roaming languidly as I slot my arms around his neck.

"Do you like the mirror Mrs Grey?" the hoarse whisper next to my ear suggests that he too, is a fan. One arm is locked around my waist, securing me to him and the other is trailing slow, fingertip-circles over my belly, not going anywhere near where I want them to go.

My head rolls back onto his shoulder, my eyes almost flickering closed, lids heavy with desire, "mmhh," I mewl my affirmation.

He chuckles quietly, "look at us baby," the sharp spike of pain that connects my nipple to my sex makes my eyes fly open as Christian pinches the straining bud. I gasp and shudder embarrassingly against him.

"So eager Mrs Grey, so responsive," he teases, "shall I make you come like this?" he's rolling my peak between his thumb and forefinger, a leisurely squeeze and roll through the lace of the bra – just enough to drive me wild but not enough to get me off.

"Please," I manage past my panting breaths. _Any which way, I don't care as long as you do!_

Watching him - us is unspeakably erotic; my desire pooling, building, heaving I decide to help things along. He senses the shift in my arms that I want to slip from their hold so I can touch him but his growling order stops me, "keep still baby, if you move I stop."

I whimper and re-join my hands behind his neck, thrusting my breasts forward.

"I want you too baby, I just want to play a bit, enjoy this moment with my wife." Instead of soothing me the way he draws out the word _wife_ sends lashings of fire through my veins, my stomach muscles already starting to quiver in anticipation of my brewing release.

_Fuck!_

"Look at your breasts Anastasia," he cups one breast from the bottom, holding it for our mutual appreciation. The balcony bra retains my breasts in a perfect display, the very low cut of the demi cups only just covering my puckering areola. His voice is turning huskier, his look darker as he brushes his thumb over the dark raring point.

This time we gasp together, sucking in a fervent breath before Christian spins me around, crushing his mouth to mine. The harsh assault steals all reason, only awareness of blazing sensation remains; it feels like his hands are everywhere at once.

I push off his shirt and roughly undo his belt, my fingers suddenly deft in their eagerness. I slide my hands down the sides of his torso, beneath the elastic of his boxers to get rid of both undies and pants in one go. He steps out of his slacks and I grip him firmly, working my fist down the length of him. When he inhales against my vigorous attack I trace the seal of his mouth with my tongue.

Bodies joined, hungry sounds escaping, he starts walking us back, up against the edge of the bed. I break away; placing both palms on his chest I push so he topples backwards onto the covers. He laughs at my audacity, the throaty rumble is a shockingly sexy sound so I follow, crawling up to straddle him.

In a surprise move he sits up, holding my hips in place, "so brazen Mrs Grey but I hope you know you're not in charge right now." Even though his eyes are smiling they're also scorching with his unguarded want, clearly he has a plan for our first wedded union. I pout and bat my lashes but truthfully, I'm eager to be driven to passion by his expert steering. "Turn around baby."

I swivel and sit on his lap; my legs tucked back, knees planted on either side of his thighs, facing the mirror once more. His plan is suddenly crystal clear, I'm completely open to him, legs spread wide. Like this, both of his hands are free to touch and caress wherever he wants. His erection, currently hot and rigid between the cheeks of my behind, ready to push through my wet folds and we can watch it all, together.

I'm grateful that he seems to have reached the edge of his control as he lifts my hips and brings me down, his hips shoving up to fill me with all of his hard length – finally letting me feel the delicious stretch my sex has been aching for.

He grunts, his teeth bared as if in pain as he fights to hold off his release, keeping me still. I groan in pleasure, one hand finding a grip on his thigh while the other rakes through his hair.

His hand snakes down, finding the sensitive heart in my slick mound his fingers start to circle there, the pressure perfect. "Fuck Ana, you're so tight, so wet. Move baby, push up with your knees." He growls though his gritted teeth as his other hand finds my breast. Pulling the bra cup down he tweaks my nipple, echoing the phenomenal pleasure down below.

I don't need to be asked twice, flexing my quads I drive up, to his very tip before forcing myself down, finding that sensational grind and friction that starts the inevitable spiral resulting from this much stunning stimulation.

Watching him touching me, filling me has us unravelling rapidly, "come baby, come now!" he demands, his clever fingers increasing their fantastic rhythm, matching the increasing speed of my strokes up and down his ever hardening shaft perfectly.

I fall hard, spectacularly as the coiled tension releases like a cracked whip in a blinding shudder that's intensified by Christian's vicious pulsing inside me, the aftershocks of our shared orgasm prolonging my gratification. Christian pants into my neck, dropping tender, out-of-breath kisses behind my ear as we float back to our senses.

"That (kiss) was (kiss) incredible (kiss)." He pulls us to lie down then rolls so we're spooning.

Our chests are heaving in tandem, drawing precious breath to steady our hearts as I lie overtaken but content in his strong embrace.

_He's right, that was, well... mind-blowing! _

An engulfing need to confirm the words of our love washes over me and I turn, almost frantic with urgency, "I love you Christian, so very much, so completely. Please tell me you know!" The plea smacks of desperation, a desire that's as deep and powerful as the need we feel to constantly consummate our union.

His arms around me draw tighter, crushing me to him, "I know baby... Hush, I know." His mumblings have a veneration to them, proof that he's as profoundly affected as me. I bury my face in the curve of his neck, his unique Christian scent soothing me.

"I love you too, more than I can ever say. I'm so…" he searches for the right word, "relieved you're mine again."

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to apologize once more; instead I nuzzle closer, sighing with absolute pleasure.

Christian kisses my hair, the atmosphere around us still thick with emotion and silently we both choose to allow it to immerse us. The last few days have been a bit of a whirlwind, I expect us to fall asleep but I'm oddly energised in spite of our vigorous lovemaking.

Before long Christian's low voice murmurs in my ear, "I have something for you baby," he's stroking the length of my arm in gentle sweeps, the tips of his fingers only just touching my skin.

I giggle, "I bet you do," I drag my head back, resting it on the pillow beside him so I can stare into his gorgeous eyes as I walk my fingers down his chest, toward his lap.

"Mmhh," he groans then gifts me with a cheeky smirk, "that too but I wanted to give you something special tonight, are you up to coming outside with me?" he takes my meandering fingers, bending all but one then takes it in his mouth to suck, his luscious mouth and slick tongue laving my finger, vividly reminding me of the sensational skills his master tongue possesses.

_I'm intrigued; he couldn't possibly top the day we just had._

I bite my lip, caught up in his stare as his look reels me in; that familiar, irresistible pull - much like gravity, isn't something I can or want to fight. It always surprises me though - just how much I'm bound to him, how with a solitary look or well-placed word he can reduce me to a single pinpoint of wild, compelling need. Even the thought of being with him is enough to starts a delicious rush of blood to my wanton sex. That, coupled with his beautiful, romantic spirit he seems to be a force - and a wonderful freak of nature.

I smile, no beam at him, feeling the pinch of the strained muscles in my cheeks – I've almost smiled my head off today. "I'd love to Mr Grey; I want to be wherever you are."

At my endearing words the slate in his gaze turns blacker as he swaps my finger for my mouth, first freeing my lip from my teeth before pushing his way inside, licking at me like I'm a decadent morsel. For a second I think the gift can wait but he stops, a childlike excitement overtaking him. "Come baby, let's get your robe."

It's always easy to be swept up in the moment when he's like this, his gifts always generous and thoughtful if not a little over the top. I follow him, padding on the soft carpet to the closet that he opens. The monogrammed Bellagio robes are, like the hotel, lavish. They're made with velvety soft, organic bamboo viscose that makes terry cloth seem plain by comparison, the creamy colour rich and reminiscent of a cloud.

He watches me undo my bra and the clips of the garter; a wistful look joins the naughty grin on his face when I catch him staring, "what?" I can't quite make out his expression but I find myself answering his smile.

"I fully intended to enjoy taking every last bit of that off you," his eyes indicate the lingerie, "but as usual, I couldn't contain myself around you." He rests his forehead against mine; rubbing my upper arms, "see what you do to me?"

_Oh I love, love, love shaking that tightly reined control of his!_

My arms reach behind him, finding the deliciously firm curves of his buttocks I feel reckless and playful when I squeeze, pressing up against him. "And I can't wait to do it again." I wink just before the unexpected scarlet flush flares across my skin – I'm not usually this audacious.

He laughs at my brazen arrogance and shakes his head as he holds up the robe for me. I slip into it, feeling like I'm being comforted and coddled by the fluffy fabric.

Looking down at me he takes my hand, his besotted grin the best thing I've ever seen. He leads me to the opulent lounge where thick candles are dotted and lit, gently glowing in what looks like a path leading somewhere. Some are on the floor, some placed on tables but they're all paired in a distinct ribbon that forms a definite trail.

_Who did this, when?_

As if he heard my thought he answers, "James has been very useful but he's gone home now; even Taylor has the night off."

_Mmmhhh, just me and my husband with no distractions…._

"It's lovely," I breathe seeing the candle way continuing through the glass French doors that lead to the patio. Christian opens the framed doors, allowing me to walk into a wonderland of candles and flowers. The whirlpool is swirling invitingly, the heat rising off it seductive, curling like smoke and filling the courtyard with a dreamy fog. The rose petals on the stone tiles are red, the hues varying from a gentle blush to a deep blood.

Next to the whirlpool is a low table, laden with fruit, melted chocolate and champagne chilling in an ice bucket. Christian picks up a small remote control; a single button pipes music from hidden speakers, softly filling my ears and the enclosure. It's a song by Dionne Warwick, tailor made for this moment – I'll never love this way again.

_Could this be any more romantic?_

In three long, sinuous strides he's standing in front of me, the hungry look back in place, softened only by the inciting, friendly slant of his mouth. He searches my face for approval and I readily give it to him, my eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy.

"I believe I have something that belongs to you Mrs Grey." He murmurs; a hint of mischief in his low timbre. From the pocket of his robe he produces a small box, no logo, no distinct features that give away any clues to the contents.

_Apart from my heart, what can he have that belongs to me?_

I smile but my brow knits into a question as I tilt my head in curiosity. He takes my hand and places the box on my palm then kisses the frown between my brows, his gaze still mysterious.

My eyes flick to the box then back up to him. _What is it?_ I wonder as I lift the lid, my heart and belly fluttering excitedly. I'm winded, dropping the lid as my hand flies to the base of my neck - astounded. It's lying coiled around a little velvet island and held into place with tiny velvet finger cut outs, the matte black fabric offsetting the sparking platinum perfectly.

It's my charm bracelet, the one he gave me for my birthday with all our firsts – an Eiffel Tower, a London black cab, a helicopter for Charlie Tango, a glider, a bed, a catamaran like The Grace and an ice cream cone.

Hot tears pool in my eyes as I remember the beautiful, bitter-sweet day he gave it to me and worse, the day I took it off for the first time, leaving it and my heart behind at Escala. It's something that I often thought about, desperately missing the gentle jangle of the charms around my wrist, an unfailing reminder of the remarkable man that Christian is.

With blurry vision I take it out, clutching it like a talisman as I curl my arm around Christian's neck, his mouth streaked with amusement at me coming to pieces under the weight of his gift. "Thank you Christian," I whisper hoarsely, my tight throat dry and scratchy.

He presses me close, never missing an opportunity to meld our bodies but his laugh is off, a little nervous. "You're welcome baby, are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," my leaking eyes telling a different story, "I... It's just… you're too good for me, I don't know what to say."

He laughs again, a tad more at ease this time. He pushes his hands into my hair, on either side of my face to lock his gaze with mine, "you can start by giving me a thankyou kiss, I'll think of something else a little later." He lifts his brows playfully, suggestively; leaving no doubt that my repayment will involve something kinky.

Magnificent man that he is, he always manages to zero in on a problem and solve it, this time with humour as I giggle, my feelings of inadequacy banished before I pull his face toward me for a coy, soft kiss.

"No Mrs Grey, I'm afraid that won't do at all." He shakes his head, a serious frown making the game seem believable.

Never one to shy away from playful Fifty I flirt right back, "I do apologize Mr Grey, my lack of skill must be due to the sloppy training I received, you see the man I married is a very poor kisser, he needs plenty of practice."

This time his laugh is rich and throaty, "is that so Mrs Grey?" his ash eyes shiny with mirth as he brings his mouth right up to mine, his warm breath making my heart jump and my skin race.

My teeth rake across my lip, my whole body lights up with awareness of his closeness as my eyelids flutter flirtingly. I nod, not trusting my voice that I know has turned thick with desire.

He adjusts his stance, planting himself firmly, "well then, there's nothing for it, I'll just have to practice." His voice is low, mesmeric as he inclines his head to a slight angle, getting his approach perfect before he licks his lips, just a hairbreadth away from my yearning mouth. When the seal of my lips break to accommodate my quickening breath he takes his opening.

At first he gently traces my lips with his tongue, his hands in my hair and on my jaw, anchoring my head in place. Slowly, softly, smoothly he starts to work his mouth to mine, moving at a faculty stealing pace. It in no way reflects what it's doing to me – where this kiss is unhurried, measured; everything inside me has gone into overdrive.

My pulse is suddenly hasty, my blood pounding, briskly surging heat through my veins, my breath - shallow and ineffective, adding to the dizzying effect of Christian's unbelievable oral skills. I'm grateful for the stability of his hold; my body melting from the inside out.

I sense him smile against me, obviously enjoying the reaction my body is so freely giving him. He deepens his effort, his strong tongue pushing through my seduced lips and finding mine is a long, stroking dance.

_Holy fuck!_

The heat breaks out like fires across my body starting with my nipples that bead into unbearably hard points then turns to my belly, making it tumble in sweet expectation. Next are the folds of my sex, suddenly sensitive and swollen, leaking between my thighs. It rips a thrust from my hips in a fervent search for that satisfying friction.

Christian's maddening mouth abruptly pulls away, a grin combined with hooded eyes looks into my flushed face, now distorted with an annoyed scowl.

_Whoa, he can't just stop like that!_

"I see what you mean Mrs Grey," he nods, feigning thoughtfulness, "lots of practice might just be what I need." He bites down on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing at me staring at him - befuddled and blatantly aroused.

"You can breathe now Mrs Grey," his self-satisfied smile is taunting me, completely secure in the knowledge that he needs hardly lift a finger to work me into a breathless frenzy.

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if I'll ever be able to out-sex him.

"Come," he chuckles and takes my hand again, leading us to the steaming whirlpool.

It's of little consolation to me that he sports another raging erection when he drops his robe and slips into the whirling water, especially if he's going to insist on tormenting me like this. I eye the fruit and the melted chocolate thinking about how I can play him at his own game.

My robe pools at my feet as I shrug it off, watching Christian closely I'm rewarded with his renewed interest at the sight of my nude body. I force myself to linger, taking my time to get into the tub to give him an eyeful of what he seems to appreciate so much.

I push through the water, wearing my bedroom eyes I reach him. His breath catches as he readies himself for my sensual raid but instead of kissing him I hold up my bracelet, fluttering my lashes at him demurely. I'm modestly personified when I ask him, "will you please fasten this for me?"

His gaze sparks with humour, "so is the game now Mrs Grey?" a quizzical brow arches as a crooked smile moves his lips. His eyes never leave mine as he fastens the bracelet – assessing me like he's calculating the next move in our carnal game of chess.

I sit on a low bench seat against the contoured wall of the spa that has strong jets of water pulsing into various parts of my back, it's heavenly. I enjoy it for a beat, trying to look unconcerned, "Thank you," I say still playing innocent while I hold up the dangling charms to admire, "but I don't know what you mean Mr Grey."

He smiles a knowing smile then shakes his head, a touch of admiration fleeting over his chiselled features. I get the sense that he's saying _game on _and it gives wings to a million butterflies in my belly.

The seat he's chosen is much higher than mine leaving his stunningly formed torso exposed. My gaze drifts over his enticing pecks and abs; following the water rivulets snaking down the dips of his muscled ridges I wonder idly how crazy I could drive him if I lapped them up.

With a fluid shift he slips off his perch and into the warm water where he stands, pushing his thighs between my legs so I have to look up to him. A look of pure sin colours his visage – he's clearly making the first move in our little contest of seduction.

Smug and utterly self-assured he murmurs in a raspy voice, "you missed one." His eyes flick to the charm bangle that now decorates my wrist.

_Huh?_

He waits patiently for my brain to make the connection while he reaches past me to pour us some champagne. True to the Bellagio's form I recognize the label of one of our favourite bubblies as the distinct Bollinger bubbles form little lines to pop on the surface of the soft pink drink.

My mind doesn't dwell on the astounding attention to detail for long as I grapple with Christians riddle. My eyes fall on the bracelet and I lift it, paging through the charms one by one, taking stock. When I flip my wrist I instantly see the new addition, a charm that blasts its way through my consciousness with an almost violent force – it's a tiny baby, obviously Chris.

My jaw drops, shocked eyes darting between Christian's smirk and the significant add-on to my beloved piece of jewellery. I'm rendered speechless, it's a powerful message about his acceptance of our little family and a heartbreakingly beautiful sentiment.

_Damn!_ I realise that he's outmanoeuvred me again, not even relying on his immense sexpertise but simply melting me with his kind thoughtfulness. _Checkmate!_

There is no way I can play unaffected, resist him somehow - I'm too deeply moved, shaken even. _Game over!_

This potent, sentimental display of love makes my surrender to him sweet, easy. Without preamble and with utter sincerity I take him into my arms, intent on giving him every inch of me he wants to take.

"I don't know what to say, thank you – again! It's perfect, like you." Words tumble out but none seems adequate, I can only hope to show him with my actions.

My lips find his as my legs wrap around him, every stroke of my tongue reigniting the forceful surge of lust that he unleashed with his earlier kiss. Wet hands glide – slipping and sliding smoothly over shoulders, arms, backs and chests - like fireworks bursting across sensitised skin.

The pounding jets at my back create the illusion of another set of hands working the surface of my body - a deeply engaging sensation that makes me want to give Christian the same bliss. More than anything I feel the need to worship him with my grateful mouth.

I've never been more eager to show him how I feel and having sex has always been our favourite way of expressing that love, cementing the ties of our relationship. When we come up for air, chests heaving from our passionate kiss I wriggle off my seat and turn around.

Christian takes the opportunity to palm my behind while pushing his swollen flesh between the apex of my upper thighs. Drawing in and out his thick length drags over my clitoris, making my body judder and shake in appreciation. I gasp and he growls as he runs a practiced hand over the full body goose bumps he's elicited.

I don't want him to stop but I'm keener to give him my own gift. I pull the melted chocolate and the fruit platter closer, positioning it on the edge of the hot tub. I pick up a strawberry, plump and fragrant and swirl it through the rich, dark chocolate.

When I turn back to Christian his charcoal eyes widen, realisation curving his full mouth into a welcoming grin. I hold out the strawberry tip, enticing him to take a bite while sucking chocolate off my finger. His watch starts to burn, drilling into me, taking in every movement as he slowly sinks his teeth into the ripe, pink flesh.

I swipe the fruit over his lips then join the feast, licking the smeared chocolate from his lips, trailing my tongue down his chin to lap up the trickled juice. A low hum reverberates from his chest and he grabs my wrist, determinedly pulling me against him.

Without ever leaving my gaze he scoops his fingertips through the thick dark mass then salves it across my breasts, finger painting patterns over the pointing peaks of my nipples. My unslaked desire edging ever higher as he stands back to survey his art.

Nipples beading harder at the force of his want on display I push out my breasts, inviting his hot mouth for a hard suck. I slip my hands into his wet hair, watching his dark head move as his mouth closes over the needy tip. Blood rushes, filling and swelling the peaking bud as he slicks his tongue around it before increasing suction, drawing in the whole areola.

I moan, neck arcing as I relent to the erotic suckling, my pelvis thrusting forward in a jealous bid for the same attention.

His mouth comes away and his fingers take its place, rolling, elongating while his other hand dives below the water. His mouth bares a dark ring of smeared chocolate that I'm eager to taste but I'm too excited about the actions of his hand under water, it has me rooted in place - staring.

I expected him to find my sex but instead he grips himself, in the swirling water I can just make out his fist jacking violently up and down his strained stalk. I've never seen him like this, other than teaching me how to touch him I don't ever remember watching him pleasure himself.

The force he uses is shocking and thrilling at once, so masculine, blatantly sexual - deeply arousing. His lids low he watches me watching him, "you drive me wild Anastasia." His hoarse words nudging my need to take him in my mouth to an irresistible level – the erotic challenge unmistakable in the severe cut of his mouth.

As the sexy shock gives way to a deepening burn I wake up from my staring trance, "Please, let me." I swallow, fighting against the shallow breaths of my passion. I nudge him to the edge of the spa. With flexing biceps he pushes himself out of the water and turns lithely, taking a seat on the edge.

_What a sight!_ His rigid column at the perfect height for my mouth's ministrations. I'm salivating for the feel of hot, velvet covered steel. He looks down, into the water seemingly searching for something and when I reach him he lifts me onto my knees on a low seat in the tub, then moves us to the right.

I wonder what he's doing but when I push up, standing on my knees I realise why, a jet of water hit my sex, vibrating the folds in a way I know is going to make me come hard. He watches my realisation, his wicked grin far too knowing.

To hide my feverish blush I wrap my mouth around him, gripping the base of his erection to keep him still. I revel in the cry that tears through him as I pull him deep, lapping at the sensitive spot on the bottom just below the ridge of his head – a new trick that I read about, I'm wildly eager to please him with a modicum of the skill that he possesses. Already I can feel him grow thicker in his relentless race to orgasm.

His hands slip between our bodies and cup my breasts, firmly kneading, flicking his thumb pads over my nipples while the jet powers onto my aroused fleshy folds. "I'm close baby, don't hold back." He forces the words through his locked jaw, his face taking on the distortion that comes with pleasure.

I let go, thrusting my hips into the surge of water and double my efforts on him, plunging harder and faster, flicking my tongue over that secret spot with every drive until we both tense, teetering on the brink of release. With his fist pulse I quake then shudder, stomach muscles clenching into a shattering free-fall. Vaguely I feel a fist in my hair, showing me the rhythm to finish him off. My body still racked with juddering shivers I hear him, forcing out my name in a ragged groan as his hips flex, thrusting brutally one last time.

Overjoyed with the stunning result I smile up at him, no doubt glowing with satisfaction but it's short lived. The sexy sated look he wore a second ago now a furious glower - jealous, accusing eyes boring into mine, "where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

**Chapter 25 to come: Please remember to review.**

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	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you for your continued support and the stellar reviews for the last chapter. Guess you guys like honeymoons eh? Don't forget to review post reading. I'd also like to wish my American readers a happy Thanksgiving.**

Chapter 25

_What?! _Suddenly the seductive background song; Adele's Make You Feel My Love seems oddly jarring, inappropriate.

I gape at him, disbelieving. The heat of an angry blush stings the apples of my cheeks just as humiliated tears brim dangerously in my miserable eyes. "I… It was…,"

I falter, the shock thieving my coherent thoughts while he cuts me off, barking, "spit it out Anastasia, tell me - now!"

I take a shaky breath, steeling myself when I realise that true Fifty is never far away. I also get a sense that the way I handle this will set a president for the future, I'm livid that he even thinks that I would lie but at the same time, underneath the bubbling anger, I see the inherent insecurity that was horribly compounded by me leaving.

In spite of feeling so small I force a note of certainty into my voice, making sure that I sound unwavering, delivering my message as clear as a bell. "Christian!" I say his name with meaning, to get his attention and to stop him from interrupting me again.

"You hate it when I doubt you, why would you do the same to me?" I look at him pointedly, still disconcerted about the violent shift in the mood between us.

Before he can answer I continue, "apart from being my only lover you excel at it, experienced way beyond what's regarded as normal." Even though I try to stay calm I can't control the indignant rise in my pitch as I gesture in the general direction of everything. "Don't you think that sometimes that leaves me feeling a little off-balance, unsure of myself?"

His expression changes, doubt in his own rash observation flitting across his face but not quite ready to let it go he remains silent, watching, waiting for me to continue – to put him out of his jealous misery.

There's a part of me that wants to punish him, to let him stew in his outrageous accusation but a greater part wants to heal us – and I know just how much I'm responsible for his insecurity.

"I read it in a stupid woman's magazine, at the doctor's. I just thought it would be fun to try – do something different, exciting for you." My blush is due to equal parts of humiliation and annoyance; I drop my eyes, still smarting from the hard thump coming down from what certainly looked and sounded like a stellar performance.

A hopeful light comes into his eyes, "so you didn't…, you never…?" his timbre turns tentative, wanting to believe but not ready to trust after what must have been an unnerving shock.

"No!" I shake my head to punctuate my denial, sounding harsher than I intend.

He exhales, long and uneven, pinching the bridge of his nose over closed eyes he runs a hand through his wet hair.

"Shit! Fuck!" he grinds out the words through a tight jaw, jerking his head once, aggressively – his fury turning inward. With both hands he pushes his hair back off his forehead, eyes marred with regret, mouth turned down – unhappy.

"I'm so sorry baby. Fuck!" cloudy eyes swing away, looking into the distance as he bunches frustrated fists into tense balls. "The idea of you with someone else…" he shakes his head, despairing, bewildered. I can see how just the thought had a knife twisting in his very soul. Instantly I want to comfort him but my hurt is holding me back.

"I'm an arse, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" He slips off the edge of the tub and engulfs me in a crushing hug, kissing my hair. My body is rigid in his arms, tension and ire still leaving me highly strung. If he notices my unyielding state he ignores it, embracing me in a way that makes me feel like the centre of his universe.

He grips my shoulders, stepping back to search my face with his pained gaze, "this is my issue. Not yours. You've never given me any real reason not to trust you that way, even when the fucking doctor was all over you." His eyes fall away from mine, looking uncertain, if not shy - like he's embarrassed, "maybe because I can't keep my hands off you I can't believe that anyone else can either."

Meeting my watch again his eyes burn with sincerity, glowing his contrition before he cradles my head; pressing it to his chest again. With those words he pierces my always-weak-where-he's-concerned resistance as my arms band around him, letting him know that I accept his apology.

I can never stay mad at him for long and in the face of his heartfelt apology I simply melt but not before the reality of our respective pasts lodge firmly in the forefront of my mind. We still have lots of work to do but Fifty won't be Fifty if he didn't have a few shades….

We stand like that for what feels like ages, trying to repair the sweet connection we felt before Christian's outburst when I feel a stirring at my belly.

_Surely not!_ I think wondering where he gets the stamina from, it's not like I want to deny him - I know that he needs this to feel that we're okay again but I'm still too tightly wound to give into his amorous attentions right now.

Thankfully he's perfectly attuned to me, kissing my hair again he mumbles, "ignore it, it will go away." _How can he be so daft one minute and so observant and thoughtful the next?_

He runs his hands up and down my arms, over the shivering flesh, "are you cold baby?" The water is warm but our naked upper bodies are exposed to a chilly draft.

I nod against the bulges of his pectoral muscles, not wanting to leave the delicious heat source of his chest.

"Let's get you warm." With that beautiful sinuous grace of his he's out of the tub and holding the fluffy robe out for me, an inviting cocoon of warmth. He ties it around my waist, taking care of me with a careful reverence, like I'm a fragile doll.

After he does his own he takes my hand and pulls me into his side, tucking me close. He stops only to extinguish he outdoor candles then leads us back into the sumptuous lounge.

"Better?" he brushes the back of his knuckles down my cheek, concern and regret clear for me to see.

I nod, smiling up at him. Even with a rueful expression he's gorgeous, maybe more so because of it.

He presses another chaste kiss to my forehead, "go grab us another bottle of bubbly and I'll build a fire." He tilts his head to his left, indicating the big, glass encased double-sided fireplace that graces the lounge or, if you want, the patio.

_Mmhhh, in front of the fire with Christian!_ My inner goddess is bounding up and down, delighted at the prospect of making love in such a romantic setting. I bet she's right; if the tent in his robe is anything to go by I don't think "ignoring it" is going to be an option.

He mistakes my dreamy look for hesitation, "did I wear you out Mrs Grey? Do you rather want to go to bed?" A gentle tone, soft eyes and a wistful smile tells me just how much he wants to reconnect, firm up that bond that keeps us emotionally tethered to each other. In spite of his obvious desire, he's always so willing to put my needs first; the irony is that it makes me want to do the same for him. _Maybe I'm more submissive than I ever thought._

I lift my gaze, fusing with his that instantly turns the shade of mercury as I slide my hands under the lapels of his gown, his strong heart beating a soothing rhythm under my touch. I can feel how my expression softens, moulding and filling with the light of all the love I feel for him, "no way," I whisper, the husky tone giving rise to his wide eyes and caught breath. "I'm not ready for this night to end just yet." My teeth find my lip, worrying it in response to my sudden flare of desire.

The sensual rumble he makes reverberates through the very depths of me, heat spilling onto the planes of my skin. I can see it takes every ounce of his restraint to hold himself back from kissing me to rather say something instead. With his timbre rasping, hoarse with need and roguishness he breathes, "I suppose I could do with more practice."

How he can joke about my earlier "bad kisser" jibe in the midst of this jolting electricity that leaves me thoughtless and breathless, is beyond my present meagre means of comprehension. In spite of having reached two sensational orgasms already the force of need I feel when his lips meld with mine is explosive - like our meeting flesh is passing on the current of our attraction and strengthening it, amping up the voltage to near sizzling levels.

It's exciting and terrifying at once, to need and want and love someone else like this. In the back of my mind I always worry that intensity like that can only burn out but right here, right now I'm so deeply involved, it permeates my being. I've long ago learnt that fighting it is futile.

The kiss doesn't last nearly long enough, Christian releases me and I'm a doe eyed rabbit, caught in the headlights of his sensual stare. Immensely pleased with the result he smirks, "I must be getting better," he muses dryly. "Now how about that drink Mrs Grey?" He points his thumb in the direction of the bar, stormy eyes enjoying my unresponsive, kissing induced trance.

I blink a few times and find my voice, "uhm, yes, sure." Still a bit shell shocked I make my way to the bar in search of another celebratory bottle of Bollinger. I catch myself humming along with another beautiful and fitting love song, idly wondering if Christian had a hand in the romantic compilation that's been spilling from the speakers tonight. At the moment it's a slinky version of Fever by Michael Bublé, leading my thoughts astray to all the places Christian's caresses heats to feverish pitches.

After dropping a fresh bottle into the ice bucket I sneak a quick look at my phone, inconspicuously trying to check for any messages or missed calls about Chris. Once you have children you're always a mom, no matter what you're doing or where you are.

When I turn around I find Christian behind me, watching me closely, "are you worried about him?" without missing a beat he makes an offer that at once melts and tugs at my heart, "we could go and fetch him if you'd rather have him here with us."

I love that he gets it, in spite of his horrific early years the Greys have given him the gift of a stable and loving home, their unwavering affection in the face of his brokenness nurtured him into the wonderful father I know he'll be for Chris. It's the epitome of bitter-sweet: that he never knew unconditional parental love as a small child but that he's willing and capable of giving it now.

I swallow against the sudden dryness of my throat and shake my head, overcome for the umpteenth time today. I give him a warm smile; the light of which I know reaches my eyes, "Thank you, that's a beautiful offer but no." I cup his jaw, letting my thumb skate over the days' worth of prickly growth, "you blow me away, the way you've taken Chris on." I shake my head, fresh astonishment at his all-round capabilities crowding my thoughts. "You. Are. Already. An. Awesome. Father. I. Love. That. You. Love. Him." I jab at his chest with my finger, enunciating each word for emphasis.

His expression, at first amused turns serious, "I love him." He says simply. There's a possessive zeal to his words that I know only too well, something I used to fear but have grown to adore in him. He loves so totally, so completely, to the point of ownership and now, both Chris and I, are his – forever.

It makes me feel safe and excited for our future together. With both hands I pull his face closer to kiss away the last shadows of his solemnity. He closes his eyes, running his nose along mine, "I'm sorry for not trusting you, let me make it up to you."

There's a definite pleading note in his low voice, proving that he's not forgiven himself even though I'm truly over it. No doubt his self-loathing brewed this unhealthy cocktail of remorse and worthlessness up for him. I know that he believes that I love him but does he believe that he deserves that love?

"Christian," my lilt is soft, soothing, seductive, "it's over, I understand. Please, let it go." I let my fingers steal into his hair while I hold him close.

Coming away from me he seems to shrug off his unsettling mood but it leaves me with a nagging worry about his frame of mind. It's so easy to lose sight of how fragile his emotional world is, especially faced with his mind-boggling competence and larger-than-life business persona.

He weaves his fingers through mine then brushes his lips over the back of my hand as we walk to the now roaring fire. Together with the gently flickering candles and a satiny throw piled with scatter cushions that he spread in front of the hearth, it adds an exotic Arabian air to the lounge.

A quick twist of his wrist pops the champagne cork with a gentle plop then he fills the crystal flutes before handing one to me. He catches my gaze, his countenance mostly in shadow but for the flames playing on the side of his angular features that only just reveal the provocative lust swirling in his eyes. He lifts the flute in a romantic salute to me that I acknowledge with a coquettish smile, all too aware of the already pregnant, sensual aura around us. Raising my own glass I clink it against his, "to us."

We're mirror images of each other; bringing the glass up to sip, the fizz tickling before tasting the ice cold bubbles that caress and tease tastebuds, first fruity then dry as it slips down, tantalising and refreshing.

All the while our eyes remain glued, caught up and spellbound as we're bathed in the ripples of desire, watching the other to revel in the sexy cues that betray arousal. The parting of lips, quickening breaths, lids growing heavy, the dart of an eager tongue touching the edges of teeth all of which compound the race of tingles down my spine.

It must be the same for him because he reaches for my glass and places it on the table to the side. I hardly notice the brief moment of broken attention before he's smouldering in front of me again. One hand tugs the bow at my waist, the other slipping beneath my robe to work it off my shoulder, "I want to see you."

His gravelly rasp sends a bolt right to my centre, making me mewl and leak between my legs. Instead of touching me he steps back, ridding himself of his own robe that he tosses aside without a care.

As I take in the defined planes of his sculpted body I have a revelation. If I love to look at him and admiring him turns me on surely that must translate into a similar reaction for him. I mentally shrug off any coyness I feel about baring my naked body, flicking my hair over my shoulder I stand tall, proud.

The effect on Christian is immediate, clear and forceful in turn slamming me hard with fresh lashings of desire. His slumberous eyes deeply appreciative he takes a step toward me, "I can never get enough of you." His thumb brushes over my lips before he trails his fingertips down my cheek, my neck, the swell of my breast and over the taught pike of my nipple.

My half lidded eyes close as he draws a threaded moan from my throat, my voice involuntarily responding to the promising shivers his light touch brings. "Lie on the throw baby, face down." His throaty whisper bathes me in his warm breath, his closeness tipping my head back to offer my mouth but he doesn't comply. A lone, lazy finger traces the outline of my lips instead; forcing me to open my eyes to see why I'm being denied.

I find a sinful, crooked smile goading me, seconds away from turning into a stern line to remind me that I've been given a command. I sink to the floor, grateful that my weakened knees don't have to hold me up in the full-force onslaught of Christian's passion.

A tic later I feel him straddle my waist, excitement pounding through my veins as I wonder what he has planned. I feel him bend over my back and sweep my hair away, slowly combing his fingers through the tresses to catch every last strand. My whole body quivers its delight, the simple pleasure arrowing directly to my enflamed sex.

Still arched over me he skates his hands down my arms and grips my wrists to slide them up, above my head. His warm palms glide down my sides, past my underarms, the curve of my flattened breasts, right up to my hips. I'm taking almost all of his weight now as he lies with his chest to my back, the rigid length of him nestling between my bottom's cheeks.

With his mouth to my ear I can already hear his harsher inhalation, "hopefully I'll be able to last a bit longer this time, I want to spend some time here." Sure hands slip in between our bodies as twin hands palm the globes of my rear, giving them a firm squeeze.

He chuckles softly when my frame stiffens in shock. I feel the pointed tip of his tongue fluttering in my ear before he puts me at ease, "it's not what you think. Relax baby, I want to give you this, for your amazing gift earlier." He nuzzles his nose behind my ear, taking in the concentrated scent of me.

Finally I get the praise I was hoping for but I'm worried that he's still feeling guilty. "You…"

"Hush baby." He admonishes with a gravely firmness, "I'm not doing this because I have to, I'm doing it because I want to, I'm desperate to spend some time reacquainting myself with your delectable body."

_Jeez, what else have we been doing these past two days? _At least his heated words has put my overactive mind at rest and I close my eyes again, ready for whatever sensual thing this outrageously skilled, kinky, virile man can come up with.

"No peeking and stay still, you know what will happen if you don't." He's upright again, both knees planted on either side of my waist, my back bereft for the loss of his warmth.

"Yes sir!" I say, half joking but I feel Christians thighs tense around me.

_Crap! Did I push too far? He said he wasn't quite ready for that game yet._

"Mrs Grey, if you keep that up I won't last another minute without fucking you senseless and you'll miss your treat." He grinds himself against my backside, the hard evidence of his threat undeniable. His lips brush my neck as he speaks; his form arced over me once more.

_Why is that so fucking hot?_

Every muscle I have clenches in exquisite anticipation, greedy to see his warning in action. He catches my sharp, audible breath, "good to know we're on the same page. So, do you want your reward Mrs Grey?" His mock sarcasm has me grinning.

"Yes please." My breathless, needy voice doesn't sound like my own, absurdly revealing.

I hear a click then a squirt before Christian vigorously rubs his palms together. A fraction later I feel his big hands working my back in long, even strokes. A blend of intoxicating exotic fragrances fills my nostrils; Sandalwood, Ylang-Ylang, Rose - all adding to the spicy Arabian theme.

_Mmhh, a massage._

His talent in this department is on par with that of any professionals plus he has the added advantage of bringing his inherent sexuality into the mix. It makes this massage take on a whole new meaning; I may never be able to go on another spa day again.

It's delicious because his fingers quickly work away every knot of tension but it leaves a certain other bundle of nerves more and more desperate for the same attention. With him sitting over my middle my pelvis has no purchase for the friction I know would relieve a little of the growing empty ache that's spawned there.

I feel Christian shift down, over the curve of my behind to halfway down my upper thighs. He pushes up to stand on his knees, "lift that beautiful ass for me." There's a hungry throatiness to his order that leads me to believe that he's feeling the effects of his massage as much as I am.

I lift my bottom, pushing back a bit, into the space he's created between his open legs, a twinge of fear for the unknown stepping up my heart rate. Christian shoves a pair of cushions underneath my lower belly, effectively leaving my buttocks up and on full display.

_Oh my!_

He adjusts himself but doesn't sit back down, this time preferring to stay on his knees only. I hear him fill his hands with more of the aromatic oil before warming it then brushing it over my bottom. His hands knead and slide over the rounded curves and the very tops of my thighs, coming oh so close to the engorged lips of my sex that's restlessly begging for even the smallest of touches.

_Urg!_ My rising frustration has the need in me building, edging higher and higher to a place where I'm no longer able to restrain my serrated groans every time I think he's going to touch me and send me off, exploding from the inside out.

Every sweep of his hands brings more blood rushing, pooling in my already swollen, sodden folds – leaving me so very sensitive, my senses close to shutting down under his delightful torture.

"Please Christian. Please," the words come out strangled and hoarse, my hands are clawing wildly, pawing at the throw along with my short, panting breaths, suddenly not sure if this is a delicious reward or a cruel punishment.

"Hang in there baby." His strained groaning words give me hope; he's palpably, perilously close to the edge himself. Then he grants my fervent wish, palms together as if in prayer, his hands dive between my thighs, dragging slowly, excruciatingly over the wet, full pouting lips that hold that immeasurable tight bundle of pleasure, instantly setting it off with an irrevocable quiver.

The shudders that shake through my body are so powerful that it arches my torso into an almost unnatural curve as I cry out his name with the force of it. Before the last spasm ebbs away Christian tunnels into my clenching opening, scraping past over sensitised nerves that send a fresh wave of sensation rushing through me.

The guttural groan that's ripped from his chest as he finally allows himself to chase his own release inflames me into the start of another grinding orgasm. Our mutual race becomes a visceral urge, all-consuming and blinding that brings us crashing down like the hard breaking of a tidal wave on the shore of ecstasy.

_Holy fuck!_

By the time I catch my breath and open my eyes, letting the real world seep back into my consciousness Christian is lying sprawled over me, the blanket of his heat slowly receding. The cushions beneath me dislodged somehow, the satiny throw a tangled mess in the wake of our crucial, passionate melding.

Christian opens one eye and grins at me, his cheek pressed to the floor beside my head. He grunts, acknowledging my sleepy, sated smile. He gently extricates himself from the cradle of my back and pulls me into the crook of his arm. "You look thoroughly fucked Mrs Grey."

My body is heavy, limbs still jellied and shaky, "mmmhhhh."

He chuckles softly, "I'll take that as a yes." He leans closer, kissing both my closed lids. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmmhhh?" I hope it doesn't involve standing I think to myself as I hover at the very edge of sleep, worn out and spent.

"Answer me and I'll carry you to bed. Can we have another baby?"

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**Chapter 26 to follow.**


	26. Chapter 26

**As always I'm grateful for your reviews!**

Chapter 26

The soft blanket of sleep I was nestling into gets yanked away from me by consciousness, making me sit bolt upright as I stare at Christian in gaping shock.

_Of all the things he could say right now, this was the last I expected!_

"Uhm." The sound echoes through my empty head, not a single intelligible thought to be found. My blinking eyes seem proof that I'm awake but a part of me is hopeful that I've slipped into sleep and was simply dreaming those bewildering words.

"Uhm." My second try is no more successful as Christian's full lips curls into lazy amusement, sober eyes watching my reaction - smiling but oh so perceptive.

He pushes himself up to rest on his elbow, with his other hand he draws idle circles on my knee, his touch finally helping my brain to plug back into my mouth.

"I've not given it much thought. It's a bit soon don't you think?" an involuntary giggle escapes me, the shrillness displaying the astonishment I'm trying to keep under wraps. "We got engaged this morning, got married this evening…" I shake my head, reeling at the break-neck speed of progression with Fifty, aiming my appeal at his rational side.

He calls me closer with a curving finger, amusement still colouring his countenance, "last night." His gaze turns expectant, waiting for me to slip into his arms. At my confused expression he clarifies, "we got married. Last night - it's almost 2:00am."

_Oh well then! That makes all the difference in the world!_ I think sarcastically, cranky from lack of sleep and the big, big day we've had. I sigh; against the better judgement of my tired, well-used body I stretch myself along his warm form, my back against his front. _I don't have the energy or the will to reason with him right now._

With his fingers he combs my hair out of his way and nuzzles my neck breathing deeply, "maybe not straight away but I want to see you pregnant, I want to feel my child move inside you, I want to hold our newborn baby." There's no mistaking the emotion in his voice, his whisper against my skin catches with it as his roaming hand comes to rest on my belly.

_How can I deny him if I'm the one that withheld this from him in the first place? All of those things in the context of a loving marriage are bliss, necessary, normal._

I turn to face him, achy body protesting as I cup his cheek, "you deserve all that and more, it's beautiful but it's also very hard. Children, especially babies need so much from you. I just want us to be ready, I don't want to screw this up again." My hand follows a path from his cheek to his heart, my watch beseeching as I find his.

For a terse minute he looks away, ponderous before speaking again, "so it's not a no?" his arched brow unwittingly providing a caution – I should tread carefully.

To prove my sincerity I brush my lips against his, "it's not a no, we just need a bit of time." There's no exhalation with my words as I hang on to my breath – uneasy at the precarious balance of the moment.

His boyish smile has always been my favourite but this one, beamed at me in the soft glow of the candle light simply transforms his face, love and gratitude radiating like the warm rays of the sun. Impossible not to answer so I do – happily, before I embrace him, arms holding on with the fierce grip of possession.

"Let's get you to bed Mrs Grey," his bedroom voice that of a man who's had his fill of passion for today.

He pushes himself up and pulls me with him, his grace becoming my own. Just as I find my feet he sweeps me up, grinning at my surprise as I slip my arms around his neck and hold on for the ride.

Christian makes a show of setting me down beside the luxurious bed. He pulls the cover away revealing fresh, crisp linens beckoning invitingly. Instantly I dismiss the shower I was hoping to have while I wriggle in beneath the pristine sheets, the high cotton thread count making it as slippery as silk.

He kneels beside the bed; gloriously graceful and unashamedly naked he brushes a hand through my hair wearing a look of adoration that's so vivid it almost scares me - the intensity arresting, compelling. It's a look that I undoubtedly mirror, my love easily matching his but it brings with it the sting of vulnerability, leaving me feeling uncomfortably exposed.

I swallow hard; it's wondrous that he should be the one feeling equally comfortable baring his body and his soul to me yet I'm the emotionally reticent one now. It occurs to me that fear is still sprouting from my guilt, an ever present black hole shadowing my existence, threatening to pull me into its depths and destroying this precious tie.

His ash gaze penetrates the azure depths of mine, reading my thoughts like it's written there, "don't overthink this Anastasia, it is what it is. I'm scared too but compared to the emptiness of the last five years I welcome the intimacy, the shock of feeling something. It comes down to trust baby and that's what we just committed too. Not to exploit those vulnerabilities."

_Wow_, I think, he really does understand and of course, he's right, we both hold the power to splay the other wide open – hopefully in the light of our matrimonial promises we'll wield our power only to nurture, never to harm. My new vows will stand strong, unwavering against the bleak reminder of the ones I broke. It gifts me with a comforting new angle with which I can view my marriage – absolute commitment.

"Is that why you wanted to get married straight away? To have us both irrevocably committed?" Understanding is making welcome connections in my mind, timely insights that make for pragmatic future choices.

He grins, his features gentling with mirth, "that and because you belong to me." He winks then looks away, hiding the sentiment burning in his eyes, "I want you and the rest of the world to know." His casual shrug belies the underlying steel in his light-hearted words.

I giggle, relieved that the potentially explosive "baby issue" didn't ignite into an argument and immeasurably glad that I am exactly where I ought to be right now – with the man who loves me.

Christian takes a few minutes to go through the villa snuffing candles before joining me in our king size bed. It may as well have been a single as our intertwined limbs form a lone being like an island of lovers in the otherwise undisturbed sea of sheets.

I become aware of light filtering though my lids but still encased in Christian's arms I will myself to hold on to that ethereal state between sleep and wakefulness. Conscious enough to savour the memories of yesterday but still sufficiently removed to hide from reality's harsh intrusion. I linger languidly on a plane hovering inches away from awareness for as long as I can before I forego the luxury of my dreams.

I turn my head, taking a rare opportunity to study Christian's relaxed and sleeping face, marvelling at my stunning luck. Something in him senses my tender scrutiny and I'm rewarded with the clearest of grey gazes, eyes opening with the same fluid grace his body moves with. Soft and smiling and warm the twin windows of his beautiful soul blink with long lashes fanning over his cheeks before morphing with heat into a feral look of hunger.

The wolf-like transformation is thrilling as previously doting eyes flash with naked desire, a desire that seems to send a direct charge to my core. My slavish reaction to his rapid change is openly conveyed by the quick draws of my laboured breaths and the sudden wet slide of my parting thighs.

"Good morning Mrs Grey," to call his words speech would be a lie, a husky purr, an unfailing trick of seduction would be more accurate. He slides a hand up my leg and hitches it over his hip, the hot tip of him already pushing for purchase inside.

The sound the air makes as I drag it into my lungs is my answer to him, "aahh!" My body arching to accommodate his eager intrusion, conveniently putting a beading nipple in front of his mouth. He latches on as he thrusts up sending us into oblivion.

"That's some wake-up Mr Grey," I tease him as we lay spent again in a tangle of bedclothes.

His naughty grin reminds me that where sex is concerned he's a perennial eighteen year old. "We aim to please Mrs Grey."

I laugh, awed and playful, "and please me you do Mr Grey." I can almost feel the sparkle in my eyes as they come to rest on his affectionately.

He pulls me close, curling an arm around my shoulder I lay my head on his chest, "what would you like to do today Mrs Grey?"

"Mmh… I wonder…" I fake mulling it over knowing full well that he knows that I'm happy to spend the day in his arms.

My little joke spurs him into action and before I know what's happening, he pins me beneath him, straddling my hips he tickles me mercilessly. He's so strong and heavy I can only squeal and thrash about, arms and legs jerking and kicking as I try to get away from his torturing fingers.

"Let me go! I'm going to pee!" I manage through breathless, hysterical laughter and leaking eyes, my head rolling wildly from side to side as I try to buck him off. "Please Christian! Mercy, mercy!"

He lets me go with a roaring laugh, spanking my behind as I crawl off the bed in a rush to get to the bathroom. Through the half closed door I can still hear him chuckling, enjoying his roguish dominance way too much. _I'm going to have to come up with an equally frisky plan for revenge._

After brushing my teeth and a very welcome shower I find Christian on the patio, a feast of breakfast laid out with taciturn James back in service and professionally attentive. Christian's hair is damp and I realise that he must've showered in one of the many other bathrooms in the villa.

For once I'm glad to have had a shower for the singular purpose of washing. Who knows what we would have gotten up to if he joined me and even though I've enjoyed every minute of loving with him there's no doubt that our rigorous passion has left its mark. My muscles are stiff, especially the ones between my legs, causing me to shift on my seat as I try to find the least tender spot.

Christian's rakish smirk speaks of pride in causing my mild discomfort in spite of his worried words, "are you a little bruised this morning Mrs Grey?"

My wry smile comes with a good-natured, sarcastic retort, "I am though I've no idea why." I look at him from beneath my lashes as I take a bite from a well-buttered piece of toast.

He makes a low, pleased sound from deep within his chest, "you know how I like to remind you of where I've been." Half-lidded eyes reveal the warm granite of his irises trained intently on me.

The searing blush blooms across my features, the first one of the day. I'm amused and astonished to realise that, by the satisfied look on his face, he was waiting for just that.

_Jeez, making me blush on purpose!_

"Scoundrel!" I mumble, taking another bite of my delicious breakfast, too hungry to retort properly.

Not even remotely chastised he continues to watch me, "I love the healthy appetite baby. If this is what I can expect from you after a marathon night I'm going to have to oblige more often." If his smugness is anything to go by, he's taking great delight in the pleasure he knows his stamina brings me, as he quirks a lascivious brow at me.

Just as it was receding, the flush returns, heating my cheeks again – _traitorous body!_ "Uhm…, Yes, well." Though I love the bantering I had forgotten the blatantly sexual way he speaks to me sometimes, filled with innuendo like even our simplest conversations are preludes to foreplay. A round or two with a personal trainer should get me fit enough to keep up with his insatiable appetite while taking a leaf from his flirtation skills will help me keep him on his erotic toes.

Shedding my coyness quickly I reach across the table taking a fat breakfast sausage from his plate and hold it close to my mouth while I speak to him, "yes please Mr Grey." My lashes flutter coquettishly as I sink my teeth into the plump flesh of the suggestively shaped banger.

His widened eyes and parted lips tell me I've hit the mark, encouraging me to play harder. Moaning in exaggerated appreciation of the titbit I just devoured I lick my fingers one by one, all the while gluing my bedroom eyes to his.

"I suggest you stop that if you want to make it to lunch with the folks and our son." The crooked curve of his mouth holds a challenge that I'm not sure I'm ready to take up, there's a hefty dose of dominant Christian in his bearing and his unflinching smouldering gaze.

_Uh-oh! _It's doubtful my body can take the hammering his tone suggests – not before my pleasantly abused muscles have time to recover and I'm keen to see Chris. Even though I love kinky Christian, going down that road might not be the best thing for us right now – "walk before we run" is the Flynnisism that rattles around in my brain regarding this matter.

My bravado crumbles under his fierce sensual confidence inciting me to do the only thing I can to tame that particular libidinous beast in him. Making my way around the table, I slip onto his lap throwing my arms around his neck with a playful girlish giggle, "you're such a brute!"

Disarmed by my child-like manner he crushes my chest to his, "I can never get enough of you." His fevered reply ends with a long kiss pressed to my head.

I come away from him smiling like the smitten woman I am. "Ditto," I say feeling the emotional weight of my words.

My prize is his shy smile, lighting his eyes with the sparkle of joy. "We have to get ready, we're meeting them in about half an hour," he murmurs after a lapse, both of us reluctant to leave the comfort that is each other's embrace.

"Mmh?" I query, lost in thought. Sitting in his lap with a view of the whirlpool I was too busy replaying the mind-blowing tryst we shared in there last night, enjoying the way my skin was tingling with the amatory memory to hear him properly.

He senses my dreaminess and follows my longing stare, immediately catching on to the nature of my flashback. With a deft hand skating up my inner thigh he whispers wicked words into my ear, "did you enjoy the whirlpool Mrs Grey?"

My loud inhalation and the unexpected zing of his touch bring me back to the present. With a look still rooted in my sexy thoughts I breathe my answer, "very much so Mr Grey." My teeth rake over the swell of my lip, pondering the bold thing I'm about to suggest, "I think we should get one at Escala. Maybe install some mirrored closet doors in the main bedroom." To hide my timid glow I look down, walking my fingers slowly up the length of his chest, deeply aware of myself.

I feel Christian's body stiffen but his intimate, rasping chuckle puts me at ease before I have time to dwell on his reaction. He presses his forehead against mine, "or…" he draws out the _r_, allowing the space between us to charge with possibility.

My pulse takes off with anticipation, _or what?_

"I still have the house." With his quiet statement he pulls away flashing a touch of uneasiness in his cloudy watch before it turns guarded and carefully assessing.

The jog of my heart speeds up to a sprint, "the house on the sound?" try as I might I cannot keep the surprise out of my voice as I search his pensive expression.

He reaches up and tucks a spiralling lock behind my ear, "the very same."

_Oh!_

Though I know I should jam my knuckles into my mouth to stop the question barging out I'm too curious to fight it, "why?"

He shrugs, glancing away to shield his vulnerability. Realisation tears me apart; I'm responsible for the hurt I see there. Knowing that I have a lifetime of blame to face up to I cup his jaw, forcing myself to stare down the demon I created by looking deep into his conflicted eyes. "Tell me. Please."

When he meets my gaze, the grey pools of solemnity offer me no respite, only confirmation of what I already know. "I couldn't let it go." He takes a shaky breath, "too many possibilities of us tied up with it."

His words land like a powerful blow, winding me mentally and physically. Christian reacts instinctively when he sees me flinching, "no!" he grinds out the barking order, angry he grips my upper arms leaving me wide eyed, stunned.

"No secrets and no recriminations! You wanted to know so I told you but We. Are. Not. Going. Down. That. Road. Again."

His mood is in stark contrast to the lightness of it a few minutes ago leaving me too bewildered to speak, the apology about to spill out almost choking me as I force it back.

_Shit!_

Once my stupefied brain has worked through his reasoning I concede, "okay," a small part of me still overwhelmed by the vehemence of his reaction.

His whole body sags, obviously relieved, "okay," he agrees, the lines of tension leaving his beautiful face. In a softer tone, with measured, consolatory words he explains, "I don't want us apologising and regretting for the rest of our lives, we've moved on, waisted enough time."

It's not the first time he's brought this up. I nod, fervent eyes locked into beseeching slate, "okay," again I have to bite back the _"I'm sorry"_ that wants nothing more than to trip off my tongue to ease my guilt ridden heart.

Reassuring and strong arms encircle me, gifting me with that comforting closeness that only he can bring. Our togetherness provides the solace we need to forge forward as one we bask in it, forgetting for now, the many healing journeys we still have to take.

_Phew - life with Fifty is intense._

After what feels like an age his voice penetrates my reflective frame of mind, "we have to go baby."

Reluctantly I untangle myself from his embrace giving him a tentative smile. With two fingers he grips my chin, placing a gentle, reverential kiss on my lips. Mercurial to a fault he smiles in a breathtaking way that sets my world right again. "Will you think about the house?"

This time there's nothing shy about my look, I beam at him, heart bursting with love, "there's nothing to think about, I love that house! It's the perfect place to raise a family."

In a fluid motion, the grace of which baffles my senses he stands, lifting me with his hands bracketing the span of my waist and turns, spinning us around with an uncharacteristic whoop of joy.

My giggling, flushed face looks down at him adoringly, my hair spilling over my shoulders, shrouding us with an intimate chestnut veil.

"Anything you want Mrs Grey, you have it!" his gruff declaration infatuated. When he puts me down he leans forward, dipping me low so I have to hold on to his biceps. In this romantic, old Hollywood style clinch he kisses me with a mouth so hot and passionate that shakes me to my core.

We meet the parents, Mia and Chris at Café Bellagio, flushed with pleasure and thirty minutes late. Taylor, Collins, Brandon and Carl take up two smaller tables nearby where they have an unobstructed view of us. Their presence a glum reminder of the vague, unnamed danger that casts an unwelcome spectre over our lives.

Chris is excited to see us, giving us both big hugs he tells us all about the fun time spent with his new grandparents. Tonight he'll be with my mom and Bob who are taking him to play mini golf.

The café is stunning; our table has a magnificent view of the azure hotel pool, the picture framed by a dramatically large window adorned with a lime green supporting post that divides the window into two panes. The clear day beautifully showcased and inviting – almost making us feel like were sitting in the sky.

The talk around the table is happy and relaxed as we discuss the wedding, especially Mia recounting the exquisite details with glee. To my right I hear Christian making suggestions to Ray about the Vegas sights to see.

When the food arrives it looks delicious but, try as I might, I can't conjure up my appetite, having slept so late Christian and I only just enjoyed a very late breakfast. I glance surreptitiously at him, hoping not to get into trouble but he for once seems oblivious to my eating habits as he piles a plate for Chris.

Chris sits on my lap, eating, drawing, chatting and every so often, whenever he gets restless or for no reason at all Christian takes him – eager to cuddle him, content to just be with him.

When Carrick asks Christian what his plans are for the press about the wedding I drag myself away from a conversation with Grace to hear what he says. He looks over to me, giving my leg a reassuring squeeze under the table.

"I'll have to make a press release, throw in a couple of photos," he waves a dismissive hand. "At least then we can control when and where the information is released." He grimaces looking back to me, "it's going to get ugly baby. You know what they can be like but there's no way we'll be able to keep this under wraps for too long." He presses his lips together, thoughtful, "I'm sorry baby, I know how you hate the attention."

Leaning in I kiss him, "for you Mr Grey, nothing is too much."

We share a tender moment before Chris interrupts us, "why are you kissing daddy so much?" the cute puzzled frown is adorable, his messy hair calling for a ruffle.

Everyone around the table laughs then settles, I blush bright red when I realise that they're all waiting for my reply, "uhm," I think going with the truth here will probably serve me best. "Because I love your daddy just as much as I love you!"

He blinks at me, looking thoughtful for a beat, "oh okay." Just as I think I'm out of the woods I hear him drag in a breath to ask another question, "but why are they so long?" he wriggles his nose, clearly disgusted.

I roll my eyes and giggle at him, "too observant for your own good!" I tickle him making him squirm.

Christian chips in, enjoying his inquisitive little boy, "every time mommy kisses me her lips get stuck!"

Chris' eyes grow large, "can they get stuck on me?"

"Oh yes!" I interject, holding his head I press a kiss to his cheek making an exaggerated kissing noise and pretend to be stuck. Our family is watching us indulgently, amused.

Christian makes to wrestle him away from me, groaning with the "strain" of trying, "You're. Stuck. Together. Buddy!"

Chris is laughing hard, wriggling to get free. I wink at Christian to cue his release before I let go. Christian pulls him away, feigning breathlessness at his effort. "You're free champ! Wow, you were really stuck there for a minute!"

Chris eyes are sparkling, enamoured by the game, "again daddy, again!"

After another few rounds of our impromptu kissing game Chris mercifully moves on to something else and we begin to wind down our lunch. I'm a little miffed and surprised that Chris leaves us so eagerly, the lure of mini golf too great to resist. I grab him before he runs off, savouring his hug in spite of his playful protests.

We say farewell to our loved ones, embracing and setting a time to leave tomorrow then set off, hand-in-hand through the bustling corridors on the hotel. Oblivious to our security detail we make our way to the villa, stopping along the way to admire some of the art on exhibit at the Bellagio Fine Art Gallery.

One of the current displays is by a photographer whose black and white stills depict nude couples in the throes of passion. They are magnificent, a true study of love in the best of taste. Though they never reveal the genitals of the models they're shockingly erotic, almost primitive in nature. The play of shadow and light, curves and limbs, the grip of an ecstatic hand digging into flesh beaded with a glinting sheen of sweat - all heavily suggestive and deeply arousing. Looking at them you can feel the desire rolling off the pictures in lustful waves.

I loose count of the amount of times I suck in a sharp breath, every one reminding me of what Christian and I must look like; hungry for each other in the near mindless chase to orgasm.

Christian sticks close to me, pulling me to him at every opportunity, watching me take it all in. Standing at the final grouping of photos he positions me right in front of him, splaying his hands across my hip bones. "I better get you home," he whispers seductively next to my ear, his timbre husky and low, "let's see if we can put these photos to shame." The delicious shivers run like warm honey through my veins.

All the way home Christian stokes the flames of my raging desire, his every touch and word deliberate - heightening my senses, driving my need from him so high I fear that I might come without a single physical nudge off the edge.

Within seconds of closing the door and our watchful guards dispersing we're onto each other, our bodies frantic, starved, wild with our need for release. There isn't an inch of skin where I don't want us to be connected. We're arms and legs and hands and tongues, groaning and writhing in desperation.

Somehow we make it to the bedroom, the unwelcome barrier of clothes disappearing like a magician's trick. Christian seems to share my obsession with full body contact, without missing a stroke of his tongue into my mouth he lifts me and pins me to the nearest wall.

With a hand between us he parts me, his throbbing length thrusting forward with such force that it tears a cry from my raw throat. Instantly the dam bursts, small quakes rippling into ever increasing ones, clenching around Christian like a fist, drawing him deeper and setting him off.

I feel the swell and then the pulse of him, bursting hot inside me. His threaded growl forced from his locked jaw, joining my serrated moan of release.

There's a fitting epithet on the tip of my tongue but I'm too wrung out to say it. We lean our heads against each other, waiting to catch our breaths.

A sharp knock on the door jolts us back to reality, Taylor's muffled call to Christian sounding urgent.

Cursing at the intrusion he throws me a dressing gown before reaching for his own, when I'm decent he opens the door and the look on Taylor's face leaves little doubt that our mystery perpetrator has struck again.

**Your reviews are appreciated and wonderful motivation, please remember to leave one.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Dear readers, I apologise for the late posting, Christmas functions and year end concerts keeping me busy. Thank you for your precious reviews, I love hearing from you all.**

Chapter 27

The very fact that Taylor came knocking instead of waiting has Christian on high alert just as much as the tactile tension surrounding his right-hand-man. After a brief, silent exchange the two of them disappear into the study, the sound of the slamming door only adding to my erratic pulse.

At least it's not about Chris, I think to myself, certain that Taylor would have involved me right off the bat if it did. This is the silver lining of consolation I cling to by the barest of fingernails while they deliberate in the study, keeping me in the dark and on edge.

In moments like these it always strikes me how quickly, irrevocably things can change, how a single moment can alter the course of your life, happy to heartbroken, content to terrified – all in the blink of a blissfully unaware eye.

After pacing, glaring daggers at the closed door and unable to keep my overactive imagination in check, I slosh some scotch into two crystal tumblers in an effort to slow the little hamster wheel whirring in my head at a hundred miles per hour. My unsteady grip raining a few amber droplets all around the pair of glasses.

When I hear the study door open, their voices muted and grim it takes everything I have to stay seated, waiting without concealing my impatience as I drum my nails on the lacquered wood of the side table for my turn to be informed. Fervently I hope that Christian will be straight with me, this can't be a sticking point for us anymore.

Taylor strides past me, his military bearing particularly obvious today, marked by the square, tense lines of his shoulders and grave expression. His acknowledging nod to me so tight and precise I'm unsure if it was meant as a greeting at all.

Once we're alone I make no move, curious and anxious to see what Christian will do. His steel coloured eyes are weary, his lips pressed together, as if to seal the words inside, "I don't suppose you'll let me handle this on my own?" A terse hand rakes through his hair, the other fisted in his waist as he raises a speculative brow.

I fix my gaze to his, with as much courage and certainty as I can muster I stand my ground, "no. I'm married to all of you, not just the safe parts." I pat the seat next to me, hoping he'll settle in and afford me the full facts.

His eyes widens a fraction as he considers my claim, opens his mouth to speak but shuts it again shaking his head, a small tug at the corner of his mouth the only clue to his acquiescence. He walks around the couch and sits next to me, exhaling a long, slow breath.

After taking a thoughtful sip of the fiery scotch I offer him, he stares into the glass looking for direction, resolution? I'm not sure which. "Taylor just got word from the blogger who posted the photo of me in the playroom that he was contacted again. This time the perp sent him a full copy of my standard sub contract."

My lungs swell to bursting point with the shocked air I suck in, my gut shrinking into a tight knot, "with your signature?" my voice surprisingly measured if you compare it to the rampant turmoil shaking my core.

His watch lingers on mine, searching for a way out but finding none - my own; unwavering and uncompromising in their quest for complete disclosure. I feel the surge of a small victory when he comes clean, "my signature but the name of the sub and the contract dates are inked out."

"With your contacts, surely there are ways…"

He interrupts me, already a few steps ahead he shakes his head at my half-finished question, "we could definitely see what's under the ink if we had the original but this is a copy, by the looks of it a copy of a copy so all we have are solid black lines instead of the crucial bits we need." He gulps the rest of his drink in a single swallow, his jaw clenching, baring his teeth in a grimace.

_Crap!_

I look away, finding a place in the middle distance where I get lost in my thoughts as I walk through the possibilities in my head. "It has to be a former sub, to have access to your lifestyle preferences, the photos, the contract..." I'm thinking out loud, just getting a feel for the facts.

"That's the obvious answer but it doesn't feel right. Why after all this time? Even the subs that wanted more ultimately left happy. There's never been any real hard feelings. Leila was the only one who I've ever had an issue with and we both know at the time she was very broken. I just don't see it." Again he shakes his head, brow marred with sceptical lines.

"Could she have gone off the rails again?" my question is tentative, I'm intrigued and apprehensive over his answer, _do I really want to know if Christian kept in contact with her?_

"Taylor keeps tabs on her, she's doing well, seems happy." The unexpected hit of bile in the back of my throat has nothing to do with nausea and everything to do with jealousy, the green venom twisting my insides mercilessly as Christian gets dragged into some unseen memory. His silence becomes weighty, making me aware of the all too pertinent reality that he might clam up.

He flops back onto the couch, scrubbing both hands over his face like he's rubbing off his mask of careful control, revealing the bleak look behind. He explains, his voice stark, "this feels like a deeply personal vendetta, someone who feels that I've taken something from them and that someone had somehow managed to find access to a sub at some point in time. The question is if she exposed me carelessly with idle pillow talk or did this person seek her out because of her connection to me."

The premeditation involved in the scenario he suggests is not only horrendous but forces me to look at the situation with much more care for concern than I imagined, the seriousness suddenly not some vague threat but that of a person who would go as far as using someone to get to Christian. Naturally my first concern is for Chris, the thought of some deranged lunatic thinking of him as a means to hurt Christian has me baulking, my stomach roiling in protest.

When he sees the realisation sparking in my eyes he sits up and pulls me onto his lap, "Anastasia," his warm hands slip into my hair, cupping my head. "I will never let anything happen to Chris. Or to you. I'd die first." His tone is utterly convincing, his eyes bright with the fire of his promise and the zealous sincerity that he allows me to see only for a moment before the shutters of restraint slam back into place.

He obviously regrets the vulnerability he revealed, feeling responsible for my fear where I want nothing more than to be his partner in this and everything else in spite of the dread. If apologising constantly and not letting go of my guilt is my issue, this is his, "I'm not going to lie and tell you that I'm not worried," I confess looking into those ash pools that have now turned cold with restraint.

"There are just too many variables and uncertainties but it's not your fault and this isn't the first time some madman has harassed us. I came into this knowing full well the risks involved. You don't have to shield me from the facts to keep us safe you have to share them. I trust you implicitly but you also have to trust me. Trust me not to freak out; I can only make informed choices if I have the details."

I watch the ghost of his past steal the light in his eyes; suddenly I face dull, lifeless orbs staring soberly at me, "Anastasia how would you feel about me if something happened to Chris because of me? It would shatter us; I'd lose both of you." His voice is so low, so raw with terror, like even uttering the words it too much for him to bear.

I swallow hard, fighting to maintain the weak hold I have on my daemons of fear, "firstly, nothing is going to happen to Chris because you and I will do everything in our power to keep him safe and secondly it's not because of you! You don't have control over some derailed person's actions! I love that you want to be strong for me but we need to be strong together."

It takes him a while to process this information and in all that time I can't fathom what he's thinking. When he finally speaks I'm not convinced that I managed to sway him, "you've always been so brave baby. I'm a lucky man." He kisses my forehead and hugs me to him, burying his nose in my hair.

I nuzzle into his neck, taking my own share of comfort from our nearness and the smell of him that always captures my senses so completely. I can't shake the nagging unease that when he sees fit he'll keep me in the dark regardless.

The one thing I've learnt is never to push him too hard, too soon; with this threat that's casting a menacing shadow over our lives I know that for now, I've said enough. If I turn it into an argument he'll refuse to listen when I bring it up again.

When I come away from him he seems a bit more relaxed, exchanging the worried anguish for an expression that glows gently with love. "Do you want to eat something? You only pecked at your lunch and I have plans for us for this evening." A small smirk plays on his lush lips, a lazy finger twirling with a lock of my hair.

_Plans?_ My inner goddess perks up.

His look reflects his easy sexual confidence making me feel innocent and virginal all over again. I try but fail to supress the rosy blush stealing across my face, with a statement like that how am I supposed to think about food?

He senses my hesitation and the smirk falls away, true to his mercurial form I now face his scowl. I have no choice but to retaliate the only way I know how – by distraction. First I lean in, brushing my lips to his with gently teasing flutters that soon make way for firmer, deeper ones that has both of us forgetting our discussion.

Flushed I smile into his face, pleased that, from the rain storm colour of his irises, my plan succeeded. "You are too good looking for your own good Mr Grey!" I say playfully, castigating him for his looks; that grin that can still make me weak in the knees.

His laugh rumbles low in his chest, "do you like what you see Mrs Grey?" his tone is laced with provocative challenge, the change coming over him dramatic as he goes from playful to smouldering in a beat of my suddenly hammering heart.

_Boy, it's really not fair – he has it all and he knows how to use it._

Slightly annoyed at my body's certain, slavish response and his overconfidence I draw my hand back, aiming for a friendly swat on his upper arm but his lightning reflexes prevent me, gripping my wrist like a vice.

A millisecond later his tongue is plundering my mouth with barely leashed violence, groaning as he takes what he needs with long, sure strokes. Breaking away he finds my gaze with unfocussed eyes, "I love to lose myself in you." He runs his nose along mine, my lips swollen and tingling from his luscious assault, my hand still held by his behind my back as our short breaths mingle between us.

"Now Mrs Grey, though exceedingly pleasant your distraction technique failed to get you off the hook. Please eat something. I have to finalise the draft of the press release for our wedding and mail it to Ros, I'd like it to run tomorrow morning."

He kisses the tip of my nose to soften his command. I can only grin and bat my lashes in defence of being caught out as I slip off his lap. The hard, unexpected thwack on my behind making me jump as I head to the kitchen.

I yelp in surprise glancing at him over my shoulder then laugh at the wicked curve of his sinful mouth. "If you stow that twitchy palm Mr Grey, I'll make you something too."

In the kitchen I help myself to a bottle of water while I lean against the counter contemplating which delicious choice to indulge in when James materialises in that unobtrusive way of his.

"Mrs Grey," he nods; a hint of amusement evident in the sparkle of his eyes, "may I be of some assistance?"

_Ah_, he's not used to guests helping themselves, on top of that I can see that he thinks of the kitchen as his domain, I'd hate to trample on his quietly reserved toes.

"I was thinking of making us some sandwiches for dinner, you know just something light and simple."

"Well then, sandwiches are my speciality, you'll have to allow me." With a flouncy flourish he shakes out his apron before deftly fastening it behind his back. I giggle as his brow wrinkles in concentration, mentally going through the recipes filed in his head.

"I have just the thing!" he snaps his fingers and pivots to the fridge where I watch him disappear behind the double silver doors. I decide to stay and watch, fascinated by the contrasting sides of his personality – aloof yet surprisingly fun and good-humoured.

Once he's amassed an alarming number of items on the counter he slices the bread – soft, fresh sourdough, the yeasty smell rich and enticing. It's clear that he knows his way around the kitchen, his knife actions are deliberate and practiced, I feel like I'm watching a cooking show on TV.

He starts by peeling and slicing a pear then slips the disks into a gently sizzling pan, the butter and olive oil hissing softly. While the pear is caramelising the bread gets a thin layer of organic butter then a generous helping of grainy Dijon mustard. With a carving knife he trims off thin slithers of rare roast beef followed by shavings of crumbly Parmesan.

The smell of the grilling pears alone is making my mouth water, my appetite returning with a vengeance at the sight of his gourmet creation. He tops the cheese with the warm pears, the juices dripping down the sides of the bread. Fat slices of perfectly ripe avocado and a generous handful of micro rocket leaves finishes it off. Lifting the topping slices of bread with a palette knife he covers the sandwich and secures the 8 inch tower with a toothpick.

_Mmhh, wow!_

After arranging them onto plates he slices them in half then gently moves the halves apart to display the filling, a feast for the eye as much as the belly. Glancing my way he sees my look of wonder, spurring on his dramatization. Like a painter adding brushstrokes to a canvas he adds a dollop of beetroot relish, his movements exaggerated, rivalling even the most over-the-top flamboyant chef.

Delighted by his performance I clap my hands, "bravo!"

James tucks his forearm against his waist and gives me a low bow, "thank you madam." Again I get the sense that behind his haughty reticence is a much gentler, playful soul.

"Thank you James, that looks fantastic!" I push myself away from the counter with my hip, reaching for the plates.

Slightly discomfited by my praise, he looks away, "you're most welcome Mrs Grey." If it was in his nature to blush I'm sure he would have.

With a plate in each hand I saunter into the study finding Christian at the end of his call to Ros. He catches my eye, holding up a single finger to show how long he'll still be. I nod and jab my head in the direction of the lounge, indicating where we'll eat.

Just as I set the plates down I look up, catching him stalking toward me in that sinuous, predatory way, "tomorrow the whole world will know that you're mine." He slips both arms around my waist then kisses me, a smacking joyous kiss on the mouth.

I'm relieved to see that he's more buoyant I just hope that it's not solely for my benefit. I beam at him, gladly embracing his possession, eager to keep the worry away. With only one more night of our honeymoon left I plan to take full advantage of our marital secrecy before we have to face the real world again. I push our mystery threat to the back of my mind, saying a hopeful prayer that all will be resolved quickly.

I run my hands through his hair, the husky lilt of my voice betraying how deeply, completely I value being Mrs Grey again, "and you - mine."

He gives me his heart-stopping, full HD smile, the fire of passion igniting in his eyes, "I am," he breathes, crushing me to him.

Disentangled he catches sight of the plates, "that looks great baby, I'm hungry. Thank you."

I giggle watching him dive for his sandwich, "don't thank me, James insisted, I just watched the master in action."

"Mmhh, that's good," he says after he swallows the first mouthful. "Maybe I should've married James." He winks and I gasp, shocked at his sudden playfulness.

He ducks just in time, the cushion I threw missing his head by the breadth of a hair. "Maybe you should have, though I'm not sure what he'd look like in champagne lace!" I counter, injecting as much indignation into my voice as I can.

He laughs, a real deep throaty laugh that I can't help joining, "I'm not sure champagne is his colour."

We finish our meal, giving each other sidelong glances, smiling with contentment. Christian is the first to slide his empty plate back onto the table. He watches me for a moment, his features deceptively composed, "can I ask you something?"

Something in his tone tells me that I might not like the question but I squash the rising discomfort, no secrets is what I've agreed to, "sure. Anything."

He takes longer than he normally does to frame his thoughts, seeming to be just as uncomfortable with his query as I imagine I'm going to be. When he finally starts it's with words that plummets my heart into my gut, "you and Jose," his granite eyes meet mine, "if your marriage was never consummated, why did you get a divorce instead of an annulment?" *

The flush is so hard, so fierce it stings my cheeks as I drop my gaze, almost flinching, "uhm." There's a lot I have to say about this, in fact it's the only thing I ever fought about with Jose but the words are jammed in my throat - shame, disgust, remorse and a myriad of other emotions clogging them in an unutterable mess.

After a minute of doing the gaping fish thing, unable to string a few simple words together I sense Christian's mood turn, "Anastasia?" If it was just my name, it would be one thing but instead it drips with an accusation that's completely unfounded.

The ice blue of my eyes slice to his as I take in a sharp breath, slowly shaking my head in warning. His watch grows large but remains puzzled, at least he doesn't say anything more, only now employing his considerable self-control to hold onto his patience.

My irritation flares realising that I'm battling his jealous insecurities. That and his tendency to jump to baseless conclusions force my stammering mind into action. "It surprised me as well but considering what I put him through it was something I felt I owed him."

As it's clearly not what he expected to hear he simply looks at me, schooled passivity in place, waiting to hear me out.

I sigh, extremely reluctant to talk about one of the many idiotic mistakes I made in my past. Resigned to explaining I cast my thoughts back, "when he finally demanded a separation I assumed that we would get an annulment. My inability to give him what he wanted was after all the reason why he wanted to leave." I toy with the seam of my t-shirt unseeing, my gaze lost in the memory.

"When he dragged us to the lawyers and we started going through listing assets I pulled him aside asking about it. I couldn't understand why he'd want to go through the lengthy, expensive process of divorce if we could get away with a quickie annulment."

I catch Christian wince at my choice of words and immediately I regret it. I clear my throat, "I mean a quick annulment." My teeth sink into my lip, chewing anxiously. Vaguely I register that Christian doesn't stop me mauling myself. "For a while he refused to clarify, simply insisting on the divorce procedure."

I take a deep breath, finding my centre. "Shortly after that day he came home one night, blind drunk. He was so angry, so resentful, I tried to stay out of his way but he was spoiling for a fight. Kept asking me if I'd sleep with him if he looked like you, if he had more money."

Christian goes pale; his knuckles strain white as he balls his hands into tight fists. In a strange, detached daze I watch him clench and unclench his jaw in an effort to stay calm, his irises almost black, eclipsed by his angry pupils.

I coax myself over the final hurdle of confession, one more breath and it will be done. "I asked him then why he wanted to prolong proceedings with a divorce, arguing that he'd be rid of me sooner if we got an annulment. He lost his temper completely, eventually yelling the truth at me. He said that all he had left was his pride, that he didn't want the fact that he couldn't bed his "woman" to be a matter of public record." I gesture the inverted commas with twin sets of fingers in the air when I say woman, my mouth turning down.

A traitorous tear slips down my face, dripping unhindered onto my chest it flowers into a wet dot on my shirt. With a feverish zeal I hope that Christian doesn't take it the wrong way – I regret what I did but I'm not sorry that Jose and I are divorced. "Maybe it was for the best," my raspy voice falters as I fight the lump in my chest, "if we had it annulled you would have gotten suspicious about Chris' paternity."

Christian makes a swift move toward me, pulling me to him, pushing my head into the crook of his neck, his hand fisting in my hair, "hush now. I've got you baby."

At first I'm desperate for the comfort I know he can offer me. In relief I fling my arms round him, eager to exorcize the lingering images of the painful memory.

Shifting even closer he rubs my back, "I could kill him. If he laid a finger on you…" he leaves the statement open ended, his voice hoarse with poorly veiled fury.

"Don't," I say, mumbling against his skin. "He had every right to be mad at me. I did an awful thing to him, he was my friend and I used him – mercilessly. I know from what Ray heard from Jose Senior how broken up he was about it. It took him almost four years to start dating again."

I lift my head, searching his face, nervous about what I'm about to say. "I feel I have to reach out and apologise to him." I don't want to hide contacting Jose from Christian; in fact I'd like his support, his blessing even.

Christian's whole body goes rigid; I feel the taut strain of every muscle and sinew vibrating with his reluctance. His slate stare bores into mine, "from what you just told me, how can you expect me to agree to that?"

I try reasoning, resting my palms on his broad chest, "I put him in that situation, I manipulated his affection for me with a ruthlessness that I'm ashamed of and left him damaged." Hearing the words out loud they sound all too familiar, I left Christian damaged as well.

That hurt I've gotten so accustomed to swells and wells up in my chest, constricting my breathing, squeezing my heart, tying my belly into knots. "I don't have to see him, maybe a letter or something but I have to, please understand."

The fury bleeds from his body as he eases his stiffened muscles, still watching me he nods curtly, "one e-mail. That's it." From his tone I gather that this is his one and only offer.

"Okay. One e-mail." I blink, letting go of a stored breath, still feeling my innards twisted with guilt. Closure is the thing that I'll be seeking most of from which ever therapist I'll chose to see.

Christian interrupts my reverie by tipping my head up with a crooked finger, "I'm sorry for the inference I made earlier."

I admire and respect him for being able to apologise and do it so sincerely but now that he's reminded me of the harsh accusatory note when he said my name I'm freshly riled again. "You should be. You can't harp on about trust and letting go of the past if you can't do the same," my ire lending a sharp edge to my words.

He surprises me with an admiring look, taking the angry wind right out of my sails, "fair point, well made Mrs Grey." I catch the glimmer in his eye, all too aware that I've already forgiven him, "now will you let me apologise properly?"

_I'm such a push over! How can I resist him when he's like this?_

My coquettish smile and batting lashes indicate my willingness to accept the type of apology I'm assuming he has in mind. "Of course Mr Grey, here or in the bedroom?"

His smirk has a touch of wickedness to it, making me doubt my initial assumption, "neither Mrs Grey. Will you accompany me on a little stroll?"

_Oh! No wild make-up sex then? _My inner goddess pouts.

"Sure," I say suddenly uncertain, "where are we going, it's almost midnight?"

The wickedness gives way to a mysterious secrecy as he arches a suggestive brow. To put me at ease he drops a kiss on my neck, lingering to take a quick nibble on my earlobe then holds out his arm for me to take. "That would be telling Mrs Grey and you know that I never reveal my plans.

_* Thank you to one of my dear readers, Debs2000 for bringing the divorce/annulment thing to my attention. Fair point, well made! ;0)_

_Also thank you to Emi.x and Mercia for pointing out a couple of things._

**Please don't forget to leave a review. They are so welcome.**

**Chapter 28 to follow.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you for the reviews and the PM chats, it's so special to have readers become friends.**

Chapter 28

We take the golf cart to the main building of the casino, the security team following closely behind. Immediately after coming to a stop Christian grabs my hand and catches my gaze. His mouth is still arranged in that sexy, secret smile but his eyes are what really get my attention, they're alive with emotion, happy, sad, contrite - all of which has me a little nervous, a little excited and a whole lot curious.

_Where are we going?_

Firmly he drags me into the building then pulls me close as he slips his arm around my shoulders before pressing a kiss to my temple. "You're gorgeous baby," his whispered words and warm breath on my ear like a gentle tickle down my back. I grin looking up at him, too stunned by his mysterious air and darkening irises to reply.

The casino is a riot of noise and garish, flashing lights, the harsh tinny sound of the slot mashies synthetic and jarring after the quiet tranquillity of our luxury villa. Christian picks up our pace as if he too finds it too gauche to put up with.

Clever how it's designed I think, no matter where you want to go you have to go through the casino floor with its ringing slots to get to your destination. Quickly we clear the vast gaming floor and head into a quieter section that marks the entrance of a mini mall within the hotel, Via Bellagio.

Here the cream of designer brands form a lavish fashion row that gives bored wives and trophy girlfriends something to do while their other halves gamble the night way. Most of the stores are open until midnight but right now, half past the hour the lane seems abandoned. Prada, Fendi, Louis Viutton, Gucci, Hermès all in darkness, the elegantly attired shop assistants locking doors and leaving for what remains of the night.

When the unmistakable duck egg blue of Tiffany & Co. comes into view it draws my attention because it's the only store that's still illuminated, the soft glow of light echoing that of the dazzling jewels inside. Christian stops in front of the shut doors of the shop, a closed sign dangling from a chain visible through the clear glass entrance.

He turns to me, picking up both my hands and meets my expectant gaze, blue into grey I feel myself being drawn in by the sheer force of the attraction between us, an involuntary gasp escaping me as the burning intensity of his focus is lavished solely onto me.

"Mrs Grey," he starts, his voice catching as his brow knits, sentiment engendering the shadow that flits across his features. "I'm sorry about almost wrecking our wedding night and then again today with my, uhm…, unwarranted overreactions. You know I'm a jealous man and where you're concerned I seem to have no sense or reason. Please. Let me make it up to you." The words flowing like he's practised this speech a few times, his look is so remorseful, so penitent it breaks my heart.

_Maybe this is how he feels when I'm the one apologising._

I reach out to touch his face, letting my fingers trace the curve of his strong jaw as I search for words to pierce his shame. "Christian, I told you earlier, I married all sides of you, eyes wide open. This time no one can accuse us of being hasty, of being blinded by love. I love you absolutely, completely. You never need to apologise for who you are, we just need to learn to express ourselves more appropriately."

He stares at me, willing himself into my mind - checking for kinks in the armour of my words before he allows them to settle somewhere in his mind. I can only hope it's somewhere they can lodge permanently. Finally he acknowledges my words with a beatific smile. "Yes, you did and I'll try." Nodding slowly he covers my hand still caressing his check with his own then guides it to his mouth where he presses a soft kiss to the centre of my palm.

"Okay," he says taking a cleansing breath. "Not an apology then but a gift. Something meaningful, to show you how much I cherish you." The repentant boy from a moment ago has disappeared, the potent swirling of love and awe now directed at me is heady, powerful, humbling.

"You don't have to do this." My voice is barely there, choked and overcome.

"Anastasia." For a split second I think he's going to lose his patience, his tone sharp with frustration before he has the good sense to change track, "I want to. Please don't fight me on this. Don't ever withhold this from me."

He looks away, evidently thinking of a way to make me understand. When his gaze swings back to mine his eyes are bright with insight, "it's like a language for me, a way I can express how I feel about you when I can't find the words. You wouldn't stop me if I said _I love you_, this is just another means to that end." He combs his fingers through my hair, guiding the stray tendrils behind my ears, watching carefully for any clue to my acquiescence.

_I never thought of it like that._

I feel the smile break over my features, "in that case Mr Grey I hope you buy me the whole store!"

The sound of him laughing is something I'm addicted to, especially a deep, throaty laugh like this, his head thrown back, his face relaxed. "I might just do that Mrs Grey." Another mercurial switch has the mirth swiftly overtaken with a passion so powerful his kiss would've buckled my knees was it not for his steel hold around my waist.

_Whoa!_

"Breathe Mrs Grey," he whispers against my mouth as he chuckles softly at my dazed expression.

My giggle is made up of equal parts joy and bewilderment, the image of Christian and me laden with Tiffany packages an all too real scenario.

With one hand he opens the door while steering me with the other, a firm, warm pressure in the small of my back. Walking ahead I find the store deserted but for a camp sales assistant smiling a huge milk-white smile in welcome.

He rushes forward and takes my hand, "Mr Grey, Mrs Grey, my name is Jake." An extremely well-manicured hand touches his chest. "It'll be my pleasure to help you this morning."

By Christian's smirk I realise that this is the surprise, not only the gift but the fact that I have the whole store to myself in the middle of the night. I shake my head, a tad embarrassed and very much impressed, it never ceases to amaze me - the doors that money can open. I shake my head; grudgingly laying my purchasing fate in Jakes expert hands.

"Did you have anything in mind?" he looks to Christian and hands us each a pale pink glass of Ice cold bubbly. Obviously too well trained to ask if we have a budget in mind he phrases the question in an innocuous way.

Christian in turn looks to me, thoughtfully stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger, his eyes dancing with the humour his wicked grin confirms, "hhmm…, something expensive I think." He savours saying the word _expensive_, knowing just how uncomfortable all this cash flashing is making me, my blush suffusing my cheeks with blazing pink dots.

It doesn't stop Christian from chuckling at my discomfort, winking at Jake who looks positively radiant – probably a combination of the non-existent budget and Christian's playful attention.

_Even gay men succumb to Christian's many charms._

I follow Jake as he rubs his hands together in glee to one of two comfortable looking wingback chairs, throwing Christian's butter-won't-melt-in-his-mouth expression a dirty look over my shoulder.

As we take our seats Jake fusses around glass cabinets, pulling out various trays of exquisite jewels then sliding them onto the counter in front of us. When he's satisfied with his selection he joins us from the opposite end of the counter and starts his spiel.

He doesn't have a single highlighted hair out of place, his suit tailor made and even past midnight – pristine. He speaks with a clear and easy authority that I have to admit is engaging me in spite of myself.

The selection is a little daunting, rows and rows of beautiful, sparkling things that must be every girl's dream except mine. I just feel out of place, like a fake. I half expect him to turn into one of those sneering sales people you sometimes come across at high-end stores that dismiss you if your outfit doesn't match their four designer minimum.

I think my lack of enthusiasm prickles his radar as he sets down a tray and meets my lacklustre gaze, "Mrs Grey, you'll need to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince."

I frown, not quite sure where he's going with his analogy. _I have my prince!_ Glancing at Christian I squeeze his knee, thrilled to have this stunning man as my own.

Jake flashes me his super white teeth, impossibly straight, "all I'm saying is don't get discouraged, when you see the right piece, you'll know. Jewellery finds you."

Christian watches our exchange without hiding his amusement, sitting back in his chair his arm is draped over the back of mine and his ankle is resting casually on his knee. The two items that I've shown an interest in he's rejected with a dismissive wave, a frustrating _"it's not expensive enough"_ comment that's elicited some serious eye rolling on my part.

_Tormentor,_ I think, almost growling at him.

Steeling myself for what might be a long night I turn my attention back to Jake. Christian's wealth has never sat well with me but I recognise that I'm going to have to grow into the role of Mrs Grey in all aspects.

Jake passes me another tray, this one with pearl chokers and suddenly my interest gets piqued. Sitting up I let my fingers glide over the creamy, incandescent orbs, some in subtle hues of yellow, others white and even pink. Jake is rambling on about how the pearl should always be matched to a woman's skin tone but I'm too lost in their beautiful luminosity, how the rainbow sheen is only visible from certain angles, to pay attention.

In my hand I hold a two-strand choker, joined every inch or so by a double diamond bead. I catch a glimpse of the price, at a measly $5000.00 definitely not something Christian will settle for.

"I like the pearl idea baby, it suits you but I think we can do better than that." Confirming exactly what I thought he levels his challenge to Jake, not for a single moment deterred by my self-conscious cringing.

Suddenly Jake gasps then squeals not unlike a teenage girl at a One Direction concert, "Ooh! I have just the thing!" he scuttles off to a staff-only section of the store, almost skipping with excitement.

I giggle and Christian rolls his eyes in a "heavens-help-us" way, joining me with a quiet chuckle. When I look back to the pretty pearls he leans closer to me, "you know," he starts, his timbre rich and low, lips almost touching my ear. "Pearls can be very useful in the bedroom."

Not that I have any idea what he means but his words instantly arrows straight to my sex, triggering a delicious spasm. My whole body shivers in response; my nipples tighten then push through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, the rush of heat north bringing a stunned flush to my face.

Christian's slate eyes falls away from my stare, his laser focus directed at my chest as his mouth curves with self-satisfaction. As if unable to help himself he skims the pad of his thumb over one prominent straining tip, his deep groan doing nothing to ease the sudden ache I have for him.

I suck in a shocked breath, my senses heightened by the fact that Jake could turn up at any moment. "Mr Grey! Behave!" my thready whisper belies the friendly warning.

Taking zero notice of my scolding he comes closer again, "do you remember the silver balls?" his cocked roguish brow emphasising his hooded look.

Bug eyed I nod, working my lip with my teeth, darting my eyes between Christian and the place where I expect Jake will emerge from.

"You get larger pearls that do the same thing. I think that and a long strand to tie your wrists with will be my next purchase." My pulse is edging up with every fiendish word, heating my blood and wetting my panties.

"Do you know how hot you'll look with nothing on but pearls? Dripping off your ears, around your neck," gently he tugs on my earlobe then drags his index finger along my neck before dipping between my breasts, the demonstration leaving my breaths harsh. "Binding your hands…, inside you?"

_Holy moly! Are we going to start playing again?_

Just as I get the full and graphic picture he sits back, alerted by Jake's approach who comes bounding back in. Christian plays unperturbed like the true master of control he is, the only hint a casual hand draped over his straining lap.

I, on the other hand, am not so lucky. Apart from the scarlet of my blush I also have to gain control of my racing heart and shallow panting. I splutter, covering it with a feeble, fake cough when Jake's gaze turns troubled at the sight of me. "I'm fine," I say weakly, "can I have a glass of water please?"

Christian - the rogue; is tenderly patting me on the back; he's faux concern only barely masking his amusement. For that I give him my best glower, narrowing my eyes into hostile slits. Trying hard to hold back his laugh he lifts both hands in surrender, too adorable to stay mad with.

Slightly more composed I take the glass from Jake with a grateful smile. He waits for me to finish but he's impatient to share his find, unable to sit back down he hops from one foot to the other. The moment I place my empty glass on the counter he produces a signature blue velvet box, opening the lid with a flaunt to reveal the treasure inside.

Christian and I produce a collective gasp. _Ooh, the jewellery did find me!_ "It's magnificent." I utter in breathless reverence.

Christian is quick to agree as Jake lifts it out of the box for me to hold. The double strand of pearls is bright white, each pearl alternating with a set diamond, then criss-crosses with itself to form a diamond pattern. The glow of the pears and the sparkle of the diamonds give it a very subtle antique feel, an elegant look that I love. I like that I'll be similarly comfortable wearing it with jeans as I would be if I teamed it with something formal.

Very pleased with himself and looking at the piece with admiration Jake makes his way around the counter, "let me fit it for you Mrs Grey."

Whether it's his possessive nature or eagerness to get his hands on me, Christian doesn't permit him the opportunity, "allow me." His tone firm but sensual; he's up and behind me in one swift move, already sweeping my hair over my shoulder to give himself better access to my neck.

The light touch of his skilled fingers in my hair and on my neck, fastening the delicate clasp sends a current surging through me, making me hyperaware of even the smallest movement of his hands – every little hair on my body standing to attention.

He skates the back of a knuckle over my goose bumped flesh while locking his gaze with mine as it's reflected in the standing mirror in front of me. "Very nice," his hoarse words leaving me wondering if he meant me or the choker, also the mirror is bringing back some pretty steamy memories.

My hand flits to my neck to touch the pearls as much as to try and maintain my wavering decorum; already my lips are parted to accommodate my heavier breathing.

_Everything with Christian is a sensual exchange._

"We'll take it," not batting an eye at the $23 000.00 price tag. He slides his credit card across the counter never breaking our stare, "no need to wrap it, we're in a hurry."

_We are?_

"Very well Mr Grey." With a huge grin he dashes off to finalise the transaction.

Blinking away my surprise Christian bends forward, speaking softly, right next to my ear, "we're going home where I can fuck you wearing nothing but that choker."

_Yes please!_

I bite my lip, looking at him through my lashes. In answer he cocks a brow and tilts his head, as if reading my mind he asks, "home too far for you Mrs Grey?" his arrogant smirk all too knowing.

_No point in being coy now._ Slowly, deliberately I nod my head, my eyes suddenly overbright with anticipation.

He grabs my hand and drags me off the chair. After signing and collecting his card along the way he calls a fleeting _thank you_ to Jake as we leave the store in a rush. Outside he pauses to take a look up and down the aisles before deciding on a direction. Decision made he heads left, his fingers still twined through mine as our close protection team scampers behind us, obviously not prepared for the change of plans.

Three stores down he makes a hard left into a passage leading to the public restrooms.

_Oh my!_ _Now that it's reality I'm feeling more than a little jumpy._

Briskly walking past the lady's then the men's I wonder where he's going. The very next door dons a gold plaque picturing a baby's bottle; this is the door that brings Christian to a halt. Briefly he looks past me, catching Taylor's eye to pass on some telepathic message. Together with Brandon they turn their backs to watch the corridor.

Pressing down on the handle we're both a little surprised to find it unlocked, my nervous giggle resonating oddly through the empty space. Without preamble Christian urges me through the door before locking it behind us. When he does a quick survey of the ceiling I realise that he's checking for security cameras.

_Good thinking Mr Grey!_

The tiny room is maybe nine by nine feet; the light switch is on a dimmer making it strangely romantic considering its use. One side has a marble vanity counter, the other, a plush couch. Even the baby feeding room at the Bellagio is decked out in true Italian style, the aged murals depicting an olive orchid on a sunny day.

He turns his predatory expression to me, his eyes glittering darkly with his carnal intent, "Anastasia," just hearing him breathe my name has my blood pooling low. "Do you recall from your research that a Dom will often collar his submissive as proof that she belongs to him?"

Doe-eyed I bob my head _yes,_ my heart hammering a stuttering beat as my fingers instinctively float to my throat, encased in the choker, his choker. _Is that what's fanning the flames of his passion for me right now?_

He sees the question in my eyes his mouth twisting into a wicked grin, a solitary demand tripping off his silver tongue, "strip."

There's nothing left of playful Christian, I'm faced with a man on a sensual mission, already hard, he adjusts himself in his pants.

Pinned by his amorous command I inhale sharply before tugging my t-shirt over my head, slinging it onto the couch. Grateful for choosing my kitten heel slides, I kick them off. I relish how his eyes travel along with my hands down my body as I slowly pop the buttons of my jeans.

A quick shimmy leaves me in a white lace bra with a tiny matching thong and of course the pearl choker that started this erotic scene. The appreciative rumble reverberating from his chest speaks of his need to touch me but he holds back, instead rotating a single finger in the air.

Understanding his gesture I flick back my hair, tilting my head and gifting him with a flash of confident, sexy smile before pivoting on my heel, taking care to sway my hips in a wanton show. With my back turned I peek over my shoulder at him, pushing my bra straps off my arms so they dangle tantalisingly free.

Sinking my teeth into the curve of my bottom lip I watch his riveted stare, lids growing heavy with desire. Reaching behind I unclasp my bra and let it flutter to the floor then complete my revolution by facing him again. With hands on hips I wear my come-hither eyes and fuck-me smile, challenging him to join me.

_Boy it's fun to play him at his own teasing game! _

He licks his lips, rubbing his thumb over his fingertips as he speaks, his voice a hoarse rasp, "keep the panties on." A single sinuous stride places him right up against me, his hands slipping beneath the spaghetti string of my thong as he grabs a cheek in each hand, pushing himself into me.

I moan; my body overheating as I press my breasts against the hard plane on his chest. Our lips a hair breadth apart we breathe each other's air, for now able to continue our torturous, titillating tease.

In a flowing motion he lifts me onto the vanity counter, opening my legs with his hips. His hand reaches between us, sneaking beneath the flimsy triangle of lace covering my sex he bunches it in his fist. Gently tugging upward the fabric slips between my swollen lips, capturing my clitoris inside.

I let out an ecstatic hiss, bracing myself with my palms flat on the cold marble surface. Taking pleasure in my reaction he starts a rhythm - tug, relax, tug, relax then adds another instrument to his erogenous symphony by sucking a hard peaked nipple into his hot mouth.

I mewl, my shallow breaths coming hard and fast. When he senses my leg muscles stiffening he lightly pinches the sensitive bud in the folds of my panty, rubbing his fingertips together. Head back I come hard, with a jagged cry I shriek his name.

Without even realising that he's freed himself and simply moving my underwear aside, my body jolts when he rubs the head of his erection over my sensitised flesh, gathering my slickness as lube before he plunges inside.

"Fuck! So hot!" he manages to spit before he starts to move and find my mouth. With the same ferocity of his grinding hips he plunders my mouth, sucking and licking in wild abandon. I scissor my legs around him, drawing him deeper as he increases his tempo.

On the verge of release he reaches for my throat, his hand bracketing my neck as if the feel of the fitted strands is spurring him on. His overt show of possession so touching I start clenching anew, our bodies in tune as we reach our crescendo together.

Hugging me tight we wait for the calm to settle, me - all but naked and Christian completely dressed bar the opening in his slacks. "Thank you," I say softly, not sure for what exactly but knowing that I'm grateful for so many things right now.

Pushing back he searches my face without the smile I was expecting to see in his eyes, "what's wrong?" my afterglow is melting away fast.

He blinks, cupping my face, "I didn't expect to feel that way." I realise the emotion I see is shock.

"What way?" I ask, genuinely perplexed.

"I've never collared a sub, never thought I needed it but seeing it on you…"

Again my fingers find the pearls, "but this isn't a collar." I say lamely, not sure where this conversation is heading.

I get his shy smile, the one I adore, "I know and earlier talking about the Dom/sub thing I was just baiting you but once I got the image in my head I…," he falters dropping the smile he looks uncertain, "now it's all I see. I guess I got fixated on the symbolism behind it." For a beat he remains still, ponderous, "would you hate me if I told you I love it?"

I laugh, a tinkling sound that rings through the room, "no, of course not. I love that I'm yours." I put my arms around his neck, lacing my fingers.

_I have to admit that when I first read about it, it freaked me out. Being collared seemed so animalistic, cruel even but this is different, like a wedding ring for my neck._

"Thank you for the beautiful necklace Christian." After a swift peck on his cheek he's beaming again.

"You're welcome Mrs Grey. It seems beneficial for both of us." King of the understatement he winks, still smiling he rubs my arms.

It's my turn for serious, momentarily I drop my gaze, testing the weight of my words before speaking them. "I have something for you too."

Because my expression is sombre he matches it but the twinkle in his eye is unmistakable, telling me he's keen for a gift from me. "You do?"

I blow out a breath through the circle of my mouth, garnering my courage, "when Chris was born you know that Jose was listed as the father on his birth certificate." I peek up, waiting for his reaction.

When he nods I continue, "I want us to change it, you know officially, to state the truth and so that Chris can bear your name."

He gulps a chunk of air then gathers me in his arms. "I'd like that. Very much." The sentiment in his statement is palpable and it warms my heart.

Still holding me he clears his throat, "baby there's just one thing and I don't know how I could've overlooked it until now but do you know that falsifying an official document is a crime?"

**Thank you to my dear reader Quickster for the research on the US official birth certificate information and clearing up the restroom issue.**

**Please don't forget to review, your words are precious to me.**

**Chapter 29 to follow.**

"I think you've made your point Mrs Grey." The gravely rasp holds a feint note of foreboding, reminding me that I've got this skilled tiger by its lashing tail.


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews and for all the likes on my new Facebook page (MoniqueLain). FanFiction has just posted a listing for Sylvia Day's Crossfire series and I've posted a story. Check out Crossfire Meander (one shot) if you're keen to read more about the adventures of Gideon and Eva. s/8806715/1/Crossfire-Meander **

**I posted a Christmas one-shot about Ana and Christian: **

** s/8835485/1/Christmas-Meander**

**A Christmas story as a sequel to this.**

**Chapter 29**

Panic flips my stomach. Untangling myself from our delicious, post coital embrace I stare at Christian, not sure I heard correctly. _I broke the law? _My subconscious fists her hands in her hips, her lips pursed with disapproval. "What do you mean?" with wide-eyed shock I wait for him to clarify.

"Baby," he looks taken aback, like he expects me to understand. "You knew who the father was but you made a conscious, false declaration on an official document." I'm relieved that there isn't a trace of recrimination in his tone but in no way does it exorcise the shadow of fear inching its way into my mind.

Apart from exceeding the speed limit on very rare occasions I've never broken any laws. "Could I go to jail?" _Surely not, _I think. Not for something so trivial but I desperately need to eliminate the possibility in order to clear my fogged head.

Christian laughs then abruptly bites back his amusement when he sees the dread on my face. "No baby, I don't think so. Unless it's on a really big scale and you've profited from it in some way." He strokes my hair, his calm confidence rubbing off on me.

My whole body goes limp with the unburdening breath I exhale. Before I can help it I apologise, "I'm sorry. Again." Averting my gaze to hide my inevitable flush of shame as the realisation of my seemingly endless stupidity dawns.

His suddenly rigid form captures my attention, forcing me to meet his steely stare. I stiffen at the sight of his downturned mouth. The stern warning on his face is enough, his silent message loud and clear.

I know he wants me to let the guilt go but how can I? Everywhere I look I see the results of my senselessness. If I can't apologise - not that I think it carries much weight anymore – all I'm left with is humiliation stemming from my carelessness.

Ever perceptive he picks op on the dejected slump of my shoulders, "You did what you felt you had to, I get that you did it through some misguided notion to protect me but we both carry an equal share of guilt where this is concerned. Let's deal with it and see what we can fix?"

He pitches it as a question, eager to solicit my cooperation. I'm so grateful for his infinite capacity for forgiveness, especially where I'm concerned. Who knows what else will pop up in the future? Every time I think we've reached the end of my disgraceful list of blunders we stumble over another, it's depressing.

I nod; my baby-blues morose. "Okay." As always I'm overtaken by him. So flawed and yet so perfect, perfect for me in every way. Hugging him close I giggle through my shallow tears, I'm still naked with him buried inside me.

Sheepish he looks down to the place where our bodies are joined. With a crooked smile he shrugs, unabashed, "I told you I could never get enough of you." I feel him twitch inside and I gasp; in spite of our shared passion from moments ago he's still substantial.

Revelling in my stunned reaction he quirks a salacious brow but withdraws with an intimate, whispered promise, "Later."

He helps me off the counter and passes me the various bits of my discarded clothing, all the while eyeing me like a starving man would a hearty steak. "Have you no shame?" I tease, try as I might I can't supress the blooming bodily blush that's spilled onto my skin.

Grinning wickedly he answers, "Not where you're concerned baby." To prove his point his stare intensifies sending shivers rushing up my spine. Not for the first time I wonder if it's possible to screw yourself to death.

I just go redder when we catch up with Taylor and Brandon; they must know exactly what we've been up to. Keeping my head down I try my best to avoid them as we make our way home.

Back at the villa we share a shower and then, Christian takes me to bed. With a searing, intense slowness that leaves my heart aching with affection for him he makes love to me. The last thought I have before sleep steals me away is that I couldn't have asked for a better honeymoon or a better husband.

Because of our late-night escapades we oversleep, something Christian at least, is never guilty of. With mere minutes to spare after our packing frenzy, we meet Chris and our parents for the flight back home. Much as I've loved our alone time I've missed my baby boy desperately and I'm keen to spend some quality time with him.

After hugging my folks, fighting hard not to show how my mom's tearful cuddle affects me, we leave her and Bob at the domestic departure terminal in the first class lounge – compliments of my generous husband - before heading to the Grey Enterprises jet.

I already saw my dad off at the hotel. Ray has decided to take in the scenes so he rented a car for the drive back to Montesano. Beforehand he made me promise that we'd come to visit soon. In the tight clutch of his embrace I felt his love along with his forgiveness and it set my mind at ease, at least where the footing of our relationship is concerned.

In the brief drive to the airport Christian checks his e-mail. A task that was heavily neglected over the last few days. My head swings to him, eyes big and berating when I hear him swear at his phone under his breath. Children are like sponges, I don't want Chris' vocabulary to develop quite as colourfully as Christian's can be.

He remembers himself and touches his lips with his fingertips, "I mean duck!"

His face, startled and repentant along with his replacement word has me chuckling. _Duck indeed! _

I wonder if it's work or threat related. I look at him, hoping that he'll explain what's riled him. Our faceless threat is now constantly niggling at my mind, like a rigid finger persistently poking at me for attention. Leaving our blissful bubble behind has sharpened my focus on the ugly, looming thing again.

"Sorry baby." he says when he catches me watching him expectantly. "Ros," he holds up the mobile. "Our wedding story has broken and it's everywhere. I was hoping that the smaller publications won't pick it up until tomorrow but I guess news of "Business Tycoon and Publishing Mogul First Love, Second Time Around" is a scoop too big not to splash. He makes a pair of air commas, mocking the headlines of one of the papers.

I groan. I hate the media frenzies surrounding everything Christian does. If the reporters weren't so pushy and obnoxious it would be easier to handle but they'll say and do almost anything to get you to react to something. I dread moving through their vicious, flashing throngs.

Hopefully they won't be expecting us back so soon after the wedding, or that's the plan at least. Christian wanted to run the story shortly after the wedding so that we could sneak back to Seattle while everyone assumed we were still honeymooning. Another reason why the Bellagio is so great, you can count on their discretion.

In the plane I concentrate to keep my mind off reporters and looming dangers, focussing instead on Chris. We listen and laugh as he tells Christian and me about mini golf and all the junk he's been allowed to eat, spoilt rotten by overindulgent grandparents and one very adoring aunt. I smile knowing that I'm going to have to get a little creative with his food this coming week.

"Will Mia also stay at our house?" he asks grinning at her as she wiggles playful fingers at him from across the aisle.

"No honey, Mia has her own house but I'm sure she'll let us visit and we'll see her when we get together as a family at granny Grace and gramps Carrick's house."

His face falls, "Why can't she stay with us?" his voice wobbles and takes on that whiney tone that's guaranteed to drive even the saintliest parent nuts.

Even though it's annoying it isn't serious but Christian's face is a picture of horror, it's the first time he's witnessed something other than the model child that Chris has been so far. I supress the urge to giggle and take my little boy's face in my hands, "Buddy, I know that it's been great fun spending time with Mia and granny and gramps but just like gran and pop in Savannah, they all live in their own homes. We'll have play dates with them whenever we can."

He looks at me, eyes large and shiny with tears, his bottom lip quivering. From the edge of my vision I see Christian watching us, taking in the scene – keen to soak up some parenting skills. He's not normally a sensitive child, usually an explanation like that would set him straight but I suspect that something else is on the brew here. With insight only motherhood can give, I realise that in spite of enjoying himself with his new, extended family there's been some very big changes in his young life lately – this is a cry for attention and reassurance.

When the first tear spills down his plump cheek Christian lifts him onto his lap. "Hey champ, don't cry. We'll see so much of Mia you'll be sick of her." He grins at Chris whose tears turn to big sobs. Kicking with his legs, protesting his seat on Christian's lap he holds out his arms to me, his pleading look only compounding the heart wrenching sight.

Bewildered, Christian lets him go and I scoop him up with open arms, pressing his unhappy face into the crook of my neck. I catch Christian's stunned expression tinged with sadness; I'm sure he feels rejected.

My free hand reaches over to take his, squeezing gently while I try to convey with a look that he shouldn't feel excluded. Sometimes you just need your mommy. Chris is crazy about his new dad and thrilled to have him in his life but I've been his source of love and comfort for so long it'll take time for him to learn to rely on Christian the same way.

Christian's worried frown remains while I cuddle Chris making soothing sounds for him to hear. When he's calm again I keep him close, speaking softly in his ear. "I know lots of things have changed buddy. We have a new daddy, new grandparents, new house; mommy is sometimes alone with daddy. All these things are big and new and maybe a little scary but instead of just me to love you, you also have daddy now. I want you to know that we love you very much. Even if things are changing, our love for you will never change. We will always be there to help you through things."

I let his hair sift through my fingers, giving him all the time he needs to think about what I've said. His shuddering body pulls away from mine, searching my face, maybe in his own way to confirm the truth of my words. I give him an open smile.

Bolstered by assurance he regains his sunny disposition. He wriggles out of my arms, offering us a wave over his shoulder as he takes on his last opportunity of this trip to enjoy his grandparent's and Mia's doting.

Christian looks after him with what can only be described as melancholy. Lacing my fingers through his I attempt to stop his train of thought, "Don't take it so personally. That's what kids do. Awful as it sounds they're extremely selfish little beings. They want what they want, how they want it, when they want it and they're not wise enough to understand that they might hurt someone in the process."

He nods, still wistful as he stares at his son, now being indulged by his aunt's attentions. "He'll leave us one day." His timbre low and thick with emotion.

I gulp at the very dark turn his mind has taken, another example of how closely his childhood hurt is threaded with his current self. "He will." I confirm; no point in denying the inevitable. "But if we do our job as parents properly he'll be happy. His life will be filled with healthy, meaningful relationships that will include us. Maybe even a family of his own. Don't miss the pleasure of having him in your life now because you're too worried about what will happen in the future."

Finally his gaze cuts back to mine, "you're right. I just…, I want what you have with him."

More words that end up being punches in my emotional gut but I make an effort not to wince - this is so **not** about me. "Firstly a mommy is a very special thing for a small child. No matter how much a child loves his father there will be times when only a mommy will do. Ask any parent." I smile a lopsided smile, thinking of all the times I've had to patch skinned knees and kiss his bumped head.

"Secondly, and you may not know this but you've made incredible strides with him. He adores you and more importantly he trusts you but like any relationship you need time. Time to get to know each other. Before long you'll see him defer to you and slowly, as he grows up, you'll become the one whose approval will mean the world to him." I press our clasped hands against my cheek.

My gorgeous husband gives me his shy smile, making my belly turn upside down. "Wow Mrs Grey, very insightful. Thank you. Maybe you should ditch the writing and become a child psychologist." Through his flippancy I see his gratitude; it shows just how troubled he was by this.

I swat him against his arm, relieved to be on safer ground again. "I can't do that! I've already spent my advance! And what will Julie Logan do with her time?"

He chuckles, looking down at me with love so warm it makes me tingle, "I'll find her something to do." He dismisses Julie with a flick of his graceful wrist. "If psychology isn't your thing maybe barefoot and pregnant is." The warm glow of love morphs into a devilish smirk, impossibly handsome and just a little bit frightening.

_I thought we agreed that waiting was best!_

I splutter; I should know by now that he holds the competitive edge on teasing. "Uhm…, well." My eyes cut to my lap, I watch myself straighten my skirt to hide the ruby sting of my cheeks. "I think I'll stick to writing thank you." The indignant tone in my lilt embarrasses me a little more.

I find Christian's face still soft with amusement but turning serious, "you're not thinking of backing out of that promise are you?"

I shift so I face him with my whole body, disconcerted by his unease. "No, no. Not at all. I just thought we agreed that we would wait."

His thumb strokes rhythmically over my hand, the movement keeping him occupied for a beat before he speaks, "We did," he says in a way that lets me know a _but_ is coming. I notice him working on a swallow. "But I'm very keen for that wait to be over."

Two things strike me at once. He's nervous. The way he doesn't meet my eyes, choosing to keep them focussed on our joined hands and that he's being honest and open in communicating with me in spite of those nerves. Nerves I know I have a big part in. On some level he must wonder if I will bolt again.

My heart lurches, I want to reward the honesty but instinct tells me to stick to my guns regarding the baby. The reverential tone he uses when he talks about the idea gives me an inkling of how much he wants one. If marriage is about compromise I may have to resign myself to a baby - sooner rather than later.

For now though, the only concession I'm prepared to make offers only a short term solution. "Thank you for being honest with me and I can see how much you want this but can we at least wait until this dark cloud isn't hanging over us anymore?" Our threat not something I want to name in the same sentence as our future and a possible baby.

"Fair point, well made Mrs Grey." His rueful grin a very reluctant capitulation.

_Phew!_

We fall silent for a minute, each grappling with the reality of returning back to the real world.

"So, Julie Logan." Christian gives me a sidelong glance, gauging my reaction. The last time we had this conversation we fought.

I snort, remembering that hiring her was yet another example of his overbearing nature. "What about Julie?" My heart surprises me by quickening its pace. Maybe I'm more excited about publishing my books than I thought.

His answering grin tells me he too remembers our argument. "You still prepared to work with her?"

"Yes. Absolutely." Looking away I let an idea for a book cover flit through my mind. "Actually I'm quite excited." Turning back I find him delighted, he lifts my hand and presses a sweet kiss to the back.

"I'm glad to hear that Mrs Grey." Like idiots we beam at each other. A moment of complete happiness, if only we could bottle them.

"So when do you want to start?" his thumb is back again, skimming over my hand like he has to maintain some sort of physical contact with me.

Getting a read from his face is too hard so I bat the question back to him, "When would you like me to start?" I flutter my lashes, doing my best impression of a compliant, deferential wife.

"Well played Mrs Grey." His smile is half amused, half admiring. "As long as she can come to you at Escala I don't mind. We also have to get Chris an au pair or a tutor. I don't want him going out to a school under the circumstances."

My soaring mood takes a nosedive, I hate that we'll be prisoners in Escala but I do understand. The last thing in the world I want is for something to happen to Chris. I used to be a much bigger risk taker before I was a mom. "Okay." I say, trying to sound bright but feeling resigned to my dull fate.

Christian does a double take, "Okay? No arguments?" he gives his head an incredulous shake, "If I'd known being a mother would make you so agreeable I would have gotten you pregnant straight away!"

I narrow my eyes at him, "You're such a chauvinistic brute!"

This time he laughs out loud, "I can't fault you there baby. Pretty and smart. What more could a man ask for?"

"Best you remember that Mr Grey." I wink and plant a kiss him on his jaw.

_That went quite well,_ I think - a potentially sticky conversation that turned out just fine.

We both take a drink of our bottled water, Christian still chuckling to himself. When he speaks again his features are a bit more serious, something in the shade of his blazing eyes tells me we're heading for another conversational minefield. "Seeing that that went so well," his words echoing my sentiments from a second ago as he takes a breath, "under what name will you publish your books?"

_Uh-oh! Did I speak too soon?_

Wilting I look to him for clues. In the past his possessiveness prevented me from distancing myself from him in any way, especially by name but I can't tell how he feels about this. Seeing that deferring to him just worked so well I decide it's my safest course of action. "I must admit that I haven't thought about it. Obviously I was going to do it under Steele but a lot has changed in the last few weeks."

I don't want to offer using my new name outright, I'm way too curious to see what his thoughts on the matter are.

He eyes me, dubious. "You're playing that game again Mrs Grey." His stern tone is offset by the lopsided, amused curve of his full mouth. Caught out I can do nothing but give in to the heat colouring my face.

_He's too damn observant for his own good._

His answer couldn't have surprised me more, "If you're going to go with your own name I would like it to be Grey but I want you to consider using a pen name. Anonymity is a very precious thing baby and it's not like we lead low profile lives as it is."

Impressed I concede, "You make a good case Mr Grey." That's his gift, his special talent. The flair I'm convinced has made him the success that he is. He always finds a different angle, looking at things in an unusual light. Respect is just another feeling I can add to the myriad of wonderful things I feel for him. "I'll give it some thought."

He gives me an enigmatic smile before squeezing my knee and turning his attention to his laptop. Being away from work must've taken its toll; idly I wonder how many fires are screaming for his razor sharp wit and if he's as pleased with our painless discussion as I am.

After a deep breath I tackle the dreaded task of starting a draft of the e-mail I'd like to send to Jose. There are so many things I want to say but I decide to keep it simple. I'll steer clear from long, rambling explanations and just get to the point of apologising.

_From: Anastasia Grey_

_Subject: Long overdue_

_Date: 27 October 2016 11:15_

_To: Jose Rodriguez_

_Dear Jose_

_I hope this mail finds you well. I never got the opportunity to apologise; I'd like to do that now. I misled you about the reason that Christian and I split up. He never kicked me out because of the pregnancy; I left because I was too terrified to tell him. I understand that you might never find it in your heart to forgive me but I want you to know that I know what I did was selfish, cruel and wrong. I used you and your affection that I used to hold so dear. We were friends and I abused that friendship beyond endurance. I am sorry – unreservedly and completely._

_You may not be aware but Christian and I have recently been reunited. I wanted to tell you personally. I hope in time that you can let go of the hurt I caused you._

_Anastasia Grey_

With an uneasy flutter of nerves I rest my hand on Christians forearm and hold out my iPad to him. He looks to me and then to the screen. The nearly imperceptible downturn of his mouth the only indication of his distaste. His eyes rake through it, assessing. The tight nod of approval I get can barely be described as endorsement but I'll be damned if I was going to argue about this. It will have to do.

"Thanks." I say, a little annoyed that I'm feeling compelled to thank him for consenting to an e-mail that I deem almost as necessary as breathing. Once I've saved the document I close my iPad, restless now. I really, really hope we won't be stepping into a pack of paparazzi when we get off the plane.

"Baby?" Christian drags my thoughts away from fighting the paps off Chris.

I turn my head to meet his lovely slate gaze, "Mmhh?"

I see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before his steely self-preservation sweeps it away, "I've arranged for your things in Savannah to be sent to Escala, what do you want to do with the apartment?"

I can't help cracking a grin realising what his small show of reluctance was about. He's asking me what I'd like to do before he does it. _Yay!_ Of course he shipped our things without asking but I guess it was the obvious thing to do so the point is moot.

"Thank you Mr Grey, how very efficient of you." He snorts, knowing that my comment is tongue-in-cheek, the ribbing sarcasm delivered with a sweet smile. "I guess I'd have to lease break or sub-let. I'll look through the stipulations of the agreement when we're home and decide."

Again I catch that fleeting hesitancy, "Uhm. Yes, I've done that. We'll be breaking the lease. I've already instructed the lawyers to authorise the penalty payment."

_Oh boy! So he asked only because he thought he knew what my decision would be. Seems I only have the illusion of free will._

I bristle, "Well then, thank you for asking." This time the sarcasm is all but friendly as I cross my arms over my chest, grumpy.

"Baby, don't be like that. It was the apparent thing to do." His inherent insecurity where our relationship is concerned has him grabbing my hand again, the contact giving him comfort in his uncertainty.

_Grr!_

I angle my body toward him, squashing the exasperation down with a firm effort. "It may have been the apparent thing to do but asking me when you've already made the arrangements seems…, seems…," I shake my head, trying to find words that are less insulting than pointless and ridiculous when frustration throws my hands up in defeat.

He open his mouth to speak but I cut him off as another thought strikes me, "Don't you dare spin this with your clever words. I saw your wavering, you knew exactly how I would feel about it but you did it anyway, maybe only now remembering that you are supposed to include me in these decisions."

It counts in his favour that he has the grace to look sheepish. Already melting I opt to look on the positive side, at least he did ask. _That's a step in the right direction, right? _

With disturbing skill he sees my softening and goes in for the kill, his distraction technique flawless and devastating, my ire forgotten in the face of his full HD smile, "You think I'm clever?"

_Gah!_

Another swat on his arm has us dissolving in giggles; he rests his head against mine. With the frostiness banished I get that it's easier for him to apologise and he does it so sweetly. "I'm sorry baby." His mouth curls into a self-deprecating line, rueful. "I'm trying." His lips meet mine in one of those soft kisses that never lasts long enough.

_Who can stay mad at that?_

My lips are still very much aware of the feel of his luscious mouth when his mercurial self moves onto something else. "So. Talking about accommodation," he twinkles at my dazed expression. "The house on the Sound…"

The open ended statement is thick with the promise of possibilities, my heart skids to a halt as stormy grey meets the azure of mine. "We should start talking about what you want there Mrs Grey."

_Huh?_

Christian sees my frown; the warmth in the way he looks at me never fails to make my toes curl. "You know, do you want to renovate or rebuild?"

Understanding rears its ugly head, _he couldn't part with it because it held too much of us but he could'nt face renovating it either._ Inwardly I sigh.

I curl my arms around his, resting my head against the bulge of his bicep I supress the urge to say I'm sorry, "Can we go and have a look again? I always thought it was beautiful, it just needed some love." My voice is wistful and dreamy, just thinking about the meadow has me imagining all sorts of things, maybe even little babies.

My subconscious tsks at me.

He kisses the top of my head, "Sure. It would be fun to show Chris."

Sitting close we cuddle through our decent into Seattle in introspective silence. With all my heart I hope that the transition back into the real world won't be as fraught as the last time.

Chris handles our parting with Grace, Carrick and Mia better than expected, proving that it was not the underlying problem after all. I can't help the pride that blooms in my chest when I see how well he adjusts to things.

After the hurricane of going on a date with someone and returning married to Christian all in the space of a few short days, getting home is glorious. A tranquil oasis in the sometimes tumultuous chaos of our lives. That and the fact that we saw zero paps at the airport and none here at home casts me in a grateful mood.

I relish the thrill of seeing my things alongside Christian's in his closet.

_Not that it ever left,_ my subconscious is quick to remind me of the painful discovery I made of my old things still hanging in waiting on the rail.

Choosing to ignore her, I glide into the bathroom so I can enjoy the sight of my cosmetics next to Christian's mouth-watering aftershave. Next to might not be the right word, I think. The vanity is so vast the twin basins are easily three feet apart.

Yep, I'm well and truly back in the lap of luxury. Maybe this time I can try and embrace it with a bit more grace.

Chris's shriek thumps me down to earth; the lap of luxury has gotten a little less quiet and a lot busier. "Mommeeeee!" I turn just in time to catch his excited body leaping into my arms. "Come and see mommy, daddy put milk on the glass with a button!"

_Huh?_

He wrestles free from my hold and drags me to the great room, babbling non-stop about the glass and milk, delighted as only a child can be.

We find Christian standing next to the wall of glass that makes up the whole side of his apartment. The exquisite view including the buildings surrounding the Escala column and the city sprawled below. Bemused he's apparently following Chris' orders to stay _where you are_.

Chris nods his head at Christian, giving him the signal that they've obviously agreed upon. He presses a button on a remote control and in an instant the room is transformed. The glass panels go from clear to opaque and Chris' reference to milk becomes clear. They've turned a milky white that seems impenetrable, affording us complete privacy.

"Wow!" I breathe genuinely impressed. "That's awesome!" I can see why Chis is so taken with this trick.

He jumps up and down, more excited now that his excitement is vetted by my response. "Can I have a go daddy, please?"

Christian crouches beside him and shows him the buttons, holding Chris finger he helps him press the correct one and we're flooded with bright daylight again. Even I'm tempted to have a try. "When did you have this done?"

He looks up to me, forgetting Chris' fingers poised to wreak havoc. I can see what's coming; keeping a constant eye on a small child is a skill that's only learnt when the destruction they can create while briefly looking the other way becomes a lesson. "I just had it done."

I can't hold back laughing, behind Christian's trusting back the glass has gone crazy with a small finger in charge of a host of enticing buttons. The great room flashes from light to dark, "What the…" he mutters under his breath before he realises that it's his darling son's doing.

My heart jams with love when I see that he doesn't get mad. Instead he joins Chris's giggles and wrestling the remote out of his little hands becomes a game. Chris makes a run for the safety of his room, Christian following closely behind. I love hearing the echo of their joyous playing in the background; it makes an otherwise sterile apartment seem more like home.

The glass is clear again for which I'm grateful because I can take this rare, quiet break and stare at the beautiful city. Lost in thought I don't hear Christian sneaking up behind me. I jump as loving arms snake around and pull me close. He drops a kiss on my shoulder and shows me the remote, the token of his victory.

Giggling I pivot into the circle of his arms, looking up his tall frame. "Where is your son Mr Grey?" I trail my fingertips over the short stubble on his cheek, always loving the feel of it under the sensitive tips of my fingers.

He cracks a grin, locking our stares with that intimate way of his, "In his room, found something else that will hold his attention for another 2.4 minutes."

I take the remote from his hand with the intention of placing it on the coffee table so he has both hands free to hold me properly but a searing kiss prevents me. He takes my mouth; going deep I feel everything he's trying to say. I push my body into his, always wanting more.

Breathless we break away, the intensity of his emotions written all over his face, "I'm so happy the two of you are here with me."

Before I can answer I see him flinch, catching something from the corner of his eye. With an incredible force and speed he tackles me, his hand on the back of my head, bracing me for the inevitable fall. "Get down!" is the last thing I hear before the unmistakable pop of glass and wet slap of a silenced bullet finding its target.

**Please don't forget to review!**


	30. Chapter 30

**I hope you had a good Christmas and enjoyed your new year's celebrations. I took a little break after the Christmas Meander I posted on Boxing day but I'm back now. Thank you for the reviews, as always much appreciated.**

**Chapter 30**

Suddenly I'm living the adage, _it all happened so fast._ Mercifully Ray's incessant drill to keep calm and think is all I can focus on, it keeps me from noticing the warm wetness that's seeped onto my clothes.

_Keep calm._

My thoughts are a line of dominoes being knocked over, one tipping the next and the next. The first one tells me I'm winded, that I need to breathe. Opening my mouth I gasp a lungful of air, tasting the metallic tang of blood from my split lip.

_Keep calm._

The second is an awareness that supersonic crack I heard must've been from a bullet and that it came from outside the building, like that of a sniper.

_What?! A fucking sniper? _

_Keep calm!_

The third is the clenching of my fist as it's curled around something. _The buttons!_ Realising it's the remote I stab unseeing at it, gasping again, this time in relief as the glass goes white, shielding us from eyes intent on harming us.

_Good! _

_Keep calm, stay focussed._

The next are of Chris then Christian. Fighting down my panic I pray that Chris stayed in his room. At least I know Christian is alive, I hear his laboured breathing next to my ear. I try to untangle myself, away from Christian's hold and his body blanketing me. He groans in response and the room explodes into activity.

In the background I hear Brandon shouting as Taylor runs up to us, crouched low with his gun drawn, his eyes darting in all directions, adrenaline making him hyperaware. "Mr Grey, Mrs Grey, stay down. Are you hurt?"

I shake my head, my words jammed in my shocked throat where I still lay pinned beneath Christian's weight.

I hear Christian suck in a breath through clenched teeth as he pushes away from me, "Fine!" he barks at Taylor, "Get Anna out! Now! Have you got Chris?"

With the distance between us I notice the blood, my hand flying to my chest, fingers coated as I fumble to feel for an injury but finding none.

_Oh no!_ Unwelcome realisation punches through the scatter of my thoughts: _Christian!_ I watch in horror as the red bloom on his shirt grows at an alarming rate, the white nearly entirely overtaken by the spill of his precious life.

Taylor scoops me up. Half dragging, half carrying me while my feet slip and slide; failing to get a good grip on the shiny floor, now slippery with its scarlet trail. "Christian!" I yell as I see him stand, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that he's hit.

"Do as Taylor tells you!" His warning is harsh and dangerous, never have I seen him look angrier, his faculties and actions guided solely by the fire of his fury.

I struggle in Taylor's grip, trying to wrestle free to help my bleeding husband but he's too strong. "Let me go! He's hit! He's hit!" my voice does not sound like my own, hoarse and threaded; I vaguely note that I've tears streaming down my face.

Taylor does the only thing he can to coerce my cooperation; he uses my son as distraction. "Brandon will get him; we have to get you to Chris."

_Oh no, Chris!_

At the mention of my son's name I scramble with Taylor, toward his study and the sanctuary of the passageway leading to my son's room, torn it two. As we round the corner of his office I take in the open panic room door. The sight of Gail holding Chris, her face arranged in a plastic smile so as not to scare him, the best I've ever seen. I stumble into the small room, barely registering my relief as my mind zooms back to Christian again.

When I spin around to find him I spot him with Brandon looking at the bank of monitors before Taylor slams the heavy door in my face, the sound of the twin, four inch steel bolts locking soundly into place. Furious now I bang my fists against the solid door, hopeless, "Take care of my husband!" I scream even though I know they can't hear me anymore. _Why are they letting Christian run around injured when he's lost so much blood?_

"Ana," I feel Gail's hand on my shoulder, "you have to be strong now. For him." I'm not sure if she means Chris or Christian but I know I'm scaring my boy so I brush away my frustrated tears but keep my back turned to hide the stain on my front.

"Hey buddy," I swallow hard, battling on keeping my voice even. "We're all fine; we're just waiting in here for daddy."

_Please, please, please let them take care of Christian's injury before they go chasing some madman in the streets of Seattle, _I mumble a fervent prayer in desperation.

"Mommy what's going on?" apart from being pushed into the panic room by Brandon, Chris would have missed the chaos in the great room but the wobbly quiver in his little boy voice makes it all too clear that he understands all is not well.

I hate not being able to face him, to show him the reassurance my smile can give but I can't let him see the blood on my shirt. "It's okay baby boy. We're safe, we'll be fine. Daddy and Taylor will take care of us." _I hate lying to him but what else can I do? _

"Take this Ana." Gail pushes something between my body and arm. As I grip the soft fabric I grasp what she's is trying to do. Grateful I tug her sweater over my head and gulp a new breath, ready to face my boy.

"Thank you," I say as I turn, she's always been a pillar for me. Chris immediately rushes forward, crashing into my legs. I don't bother to brace myself. I go down with the force of his haste and embrace him with arms like steel. "It's going to be fine baby boy. All fine." Mostly I'm speaking to Chris but having him safely in my arms is no small comfort to me.

I catch Gail's eye over Chris' shoulder, her hand on her drumming heart. She too is experiencing the rush of blessed relief – we're all mostly safe but her gaze still bears an edge of fear that's barely hidden in its depths, as I'm sure is the case with mine - our men are out there.

_And mine is hurt!_

I tighten my grip on Chris as I stare into Gail's eyes, the silent voicing of our shared concerns sounding through the hollow caverns of my mind. Nothing to do now but worry and wait. She drops down onto the floor with us as we settle into not knowing what's happening out there.

_What the hell just went down? _It's obvious to me now that we've underestimated the threat. This person is not only intent on destroying Christian's reputation but the man himself, my very dear husband. _Unless,_ I think, my heart coming to a crashing halt in my chest, _that bullet was meant for me?_ As quickly as it came I shut down that train of thought before it leads me straight back to Panicville.

Focussing on keeping my choppy breaths under control I sit still, cradling Chris in my lap. I can sense the effort between Gail and me as we push down the urge that grows with every creeping minute for an update from our guys.

The sound of static spitting yanks me away from my scary thoughts as the two-way radio on the shelf beside my head bursts into life, the little red light blinking manically as Taylor's voice cracks through the confines of the room, "Alfa Golf, can you read me? Come in Mrs Grey. Come in, over."

My shaky legs jump up with a welcome spark of energy as the adrenaline pounds through my body for the second time today. My fumbling fingers are as eager as I for news but useless in their impatience. I grab hold of the slender black radio, knocking the plastic cradle onto the floor.

While Gail scrambles to pick it up I punch the call button and hold the thing close to my mouth, "Alfa Golf here, we can read you Juliette Tango, loud and clear." My pseudo bravado along with all Ray's training in radio contact fails me at this point as dark apprehension swallows me whole. Abandoning all protocol I beg for information, "Taylor, what's happening? Is Christian okay?"

I hear another crack/hiss before Taylor's tinny bark, "Charlie Golf is being attended to." A second or two lapses before he speaks again, this time his voice has a much softer edge, "He's okay Mrs Grey, try not to worry. We'll have you out of there shortly. Over and out." The radio dies with a final hiss, its silence suddenly loud.

_He's fine, he's fine, he's fine!_ It's the mantra I occupy my anxious thoughts with, no point in dwelling before I have the facts. Gail and I give each other another look, both eased by the news but the sympathy swirling in her eyes reflects what I'm thinking; _with that amount of blood loss_ _Christian is all but fine._

How long do they expect us to wait in here and if the danger is still eminent why are we still here? Why haven't we been moved? How badly is Christian injured? These questions compete for answers in my head, fighting and shoving their way to the forefront of my overwhelmed mind.

I'm grateful that I'm in here with Gail, apart from Chris' subdued chatter, we don't say much however her level head and calm, no-nonsense demeanour is just what I need in a situation like this, it keeps me sane as nothing but time for wild imaginings stretches before us.

The wait seems interminable, the room so solid we can't hear any tell-tale sounds until finally, my ears prickle at the slide and click of the opening door. Natural light, a blast of fresh air and a very pale Taylor greets us.

Behind him is my wounded husband, bound to a stretcher and already hooked up to a mobile heart rate monitor. A pair of paramedics is attending to him, their faces grim as they pass a concerned look between themselves.

I launch myself up with Chris still in my arms, my superhuman agility going unnoticed against the joy of seeing him in one piece. "Christian!" I reach his side and grab his hand, too scared to hurt him with a hug.

In spite of his heavily bandaged shoulder and the faint stains of dried blood still visible on the hard ridges of his abdomen he smiles when he sees us. "Baby," he croaks, his warm hand squeezing back.

As the rest of the world comes back into view I become aware of Gail in Taylor's arms, her eyes closed as she pats him down to make sure he's uninjured. Off to the side Brandon is speaking to two police detectives, their badges prominently displayed in the breast pockets of their plain clothes jackets. Both have their heads down as they scribble notes in tiny booklets.

_Good,_ I think. _About time we get the professionals involved, this is too serious for in-house security alone._

The paramedics are packing up their gear now, an unmistakable urgency in their efficient movements and I realise it's because they need to get Christian to the hospital. I wince when I see the blood on the surgical gloves the second one is pulling off his hands and the pile of red that was Christian's shirt.

"Mommy, why is daddy sick?" I so love Chris' curiosity but not for this. Right now all I want to do is save him from this nightmare; I wish I could keep him away from all the hurt in the world but especially this.

Briefly, I lock my watch with his, with as much certainty as I can muster I speak soothing, sure words to him. "Buddy, daddy, will be fine. We'll visit him in hospital where grandma Grace will look after him. He's not sick he just has an owee, like you get when you fall off your bike sometimes."

He looks to me then cuts his eyes back to Christian, understanding dawning as he accepts my explanation. "Daddy, you need a Band-Aid and then some ice cream," he gives his dad the cutest knowing nod.

Christian chuckles softly and I work on getting the lump in my throat to shrink. I allow myself to drink in the comfort of Christian's warm touch before I let the questions roll. "How badly are you hurt? What the hell just happened? Are we safe?"

"I'm so sorry baby. I can't believe I've put the two of you in harm's way. I've underestimated this jerk's hard-on for me." In spite of his raspy timbre the last part of his sentence is spoken with so much venom, so much unrestrained bitterness I can't help but flinch. Hopefully his comment went over Chris' head.

"Christian, this isn't your fault," I say, my pitch squeaky with shock as my brow draws into a frown. The last thing I want to do right now is draw him into a debate about blame, not after he's clearly waited to see us before heading to the hospital. "Please let these guys get you to the hospital."

He answers me with a look that says he thinks otherwise. "Safe. For now. If it wasn't for your quick thinking..." He winces with the effort to speak, letting his indebted words hang in the air.

"Call my mom to let her know. Meet me at the hospital and for heaven's sake Anastasia," he swallows, "please," his slate gaze bores into mine, his pleading tone gravely and forceful at once. "Stay out of trouble and follow Taylor's orders!"

The paramedic interrupts our exchange, that vibe of urgency still visible in the way they carry themselves. "We really have to go now Mr Grey, we've already waisted too much time." Without waiting any longer they start to push the wheeled gurney across the room.

I shove Chris into Gail's arms and half run to keep up with their swift, smooth glide to the elevator, "I love you," is all I manage to choke out. With his pale face turned to me he lifts a bound wrist to wriggle his fingers in acknowledgement before the metal doors slip closed.

It's beyond surreal to see him like this, not even the time he offered himself as a submissive to me compares to seeing him pale and injured. I find myself staring at the matte halves of the steel doors, wondering if it's possible that I just dreamt this whole fiasco.

I find Gail and Chris still in Taylor's study, it's almost like we're not ready to move through the apartment with ease, preferring to stay contained in an untainted space but I'm anxious now to get to the hospital. I place a quick call to Grace, dreading the news I have to share. She surprises me with her absolute calmness and a steely, decisive attitude. It leaves me feeling better than before the call, now that I think about it, I should've expected no less.

I'm certain that Christian won't let us stay here at Escala so I take Chris' hand to get him to help me pack a few things but halfway down the passage I decide to pick him up instead. The physical space between us too much for me after what happened today as the what-if's begin to circle my mind, picking at my thoughts like ravenous vultures.

With bags packed for Chris, Christian and myself I meet Taylor in the foyer. Gail is also present and packed along with Bandon, Carl and Collins.

"Mrs Grey, I will escort you and Chris to the hospital, Brandon will take Gail to her sister's but will follow us to the hospital. Collins and Carl will each be in a separate vehicle to make up the four car convoy. With the tinted windows no one from the outside will be able to tell who is traveling in which vehicle and we can sure use the extra sets of eyes." He acknowledges Collins and Carl. "Once we get to the hospital Collins and Carl will escort Gail then return to join us. I've arranged a separate operative to keep an eye on Gail at her sister's."

I simply nod as Taylor gives me a pointed look, there'll be no arguments from me. I don't have the inclination to dwell on the curt nod I get in return; I just want to get going.

Downstairs we pile into the individual SUV's, our security crew skittish and I guess a little trigger happy as they all keep their hands on the butt of their holstered firearms. For the first time I don't feel like the heavy cloak-and-dagger stuff is overkill.

In the car it occurs to me that in Taylor I have access to information, "Taylor, bearing in mind we have little ears here, can you fill me in on Christian's condition please?"

He catches my eye in the rear view mirror then cuts his gaze back to the road, "It's a little unusual Mrs Grey, the wound is not consistent with what I would expect from a sniper rifle but he'll be fine. He got hit in the upper arm and he's lost a lot of…." Realising that Chis would understand _blood_ he doesn't finish his sentence.

In spite of suspecting exactly that and coupled with the serious expressions of the paramedics before they left the apartment I still feel my stomach heave before it twists itself into a tight knot of unease. _What does he mean not consistent with a sniper rifle?_

In the backseat I sit and brood over what he's told me, not much but certainly enough to bring belly churning visions of shattered bones, nerve damage, scar tissue and burst arteries. The latter would at least explain why he bled so much. I can't chance asking Taylor much more with Chris in the car even though he seems occupied staring out the window while I hold his tiny hand.

The thought of another mark marring Christian's body is something I find so abhorrent that I stun myself with a flash of seething hatred for whoever has it in for us. Surely someone who's this intent on hurting Christian would have an obvious motive, one we should be able to trace but regardless of the resources Christian has thrown at this and as far as I know, we've come up empty.

The ponderous silence in the car as well as the shock and worry suddenly brings the broken relationship between me and Taylor into sharp focus. _Life is just too short._ We've not been alone to talk since I've been back in Christian's life and suddenly I feel compelled to at least state my case.

"Taylor," my eyes fall to my lap, impetuously interested in my awkward, fumbling fingers. "I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry for running, for the secret I kept." All the emotions of the day come to a head, crowding thickly in my chest. When he doesn't respond I plough on, hoping that getting it off my chest will make me feel a little lighter.

"I know how much pain I caused and I know how much you care for him. Indirectly I hurt you too." My choice of phrase is hampered by Chris' presence but I'm sure he gets my drift. In light of today I'm unwilling to leave these words unsaid any longer.

After a long stretch of silence I assume that he's not ready to talk which I decide to resign myself too. At least I can tell that he's digesting my overdue apology as the mood in the car turns pensive.

I startle when he speaks, even though his voice is low and measured, "Ana, if there's one thing I wish for you to take from this is how damaged you left him, maybe then you can begin to understand how he feels about you."

I catch another brief flick of his eyes to me in the mirror, his taciturn manner morphing into an icy barrier as his mouth presses into a hard slash. "I know he loves me." I speak clearly, not withholding the defensive edge from my voice.

_Wow. He's still very mad at me._

Taylor gives me a mirthless laugh, more like a bark, "You have no clue." Ruefully he shakes his head as he turns into the hospital grounds.

"How can you say that? It was hard for me too. My heart was shattered, for months, no, years. I was a ghost of myself." Nervous about having said too much in front of Chris I look to him only to find that he's nodded off, his copper head lolling to one side.

I see something unexpected cloud Taylor's gaze, it's there only for a second before his impassive mask slips back in place. "I know. It was plain to see."

His statement snakes around my heart, twining and winding, punishing me with its painful squeeze. Taylor must've been involved in my surveillance. The realisation has me biting back a sob as my memories transport me back to that black time. Pregnant, heartbroken, depressed and with a man I couldn't respond to, even if I bothered to try. All men seemed like half-men after Christian.

Taylor's foresight and reach doesn't surprise me as we park in an underground area normally reserved for ambulances and staff. He switches off the engine and turns to face me. "You never saw him with the others, the difference between them and you. He was always overbearing, he cares deeply for the wellbeing of others and that included his uhm… companions but with you…" Again he shakes his head, this time to clear his head in his search for appropriate words.

"I guess you didn't know him long before you were married so you had nothing to compare his behaviour too but I've never seen him like that, he wasn't just in love Ana he was overtaken and I don't mind telling you, overwhelmed by his feelings for you."

Maybe it's because Taylor is straying from his usual reservedness to share this with me or maybe it's the content of his speech but slowly a picture emerges in my mind, one that looks beyond the pain I was in, in those dark days and into the heart and mind of a broken Christian.

Obviously I knew that he was hurting and when I ran into him at the zoo and the subsequent days, I got a glimpse of how much but from what Taylor is saying Christian only ever allowed me to see the tip of his mountain of feelings for me.

In hindsight I hit a moment of paradigm-shifting clarity. Even in showing me his love and affection he was employing every measure of his considerable control, knowing that a full blast of that emotion on someone as young and innocent as I was, would probably have me running for the hills. I can't deny that as it was, I was completely incredulous, astounded enough not to believe it and to run.

Involuntarily I gasp. If what Taylor is saying is true he must be holding back still. Suddenly so many little things fall into place for me. His forgiveness, his infinite capacity to be with me, never getting enough, the gobsmacking romance. He's told me countless times, will I ever learn to read between the lines with him? Am I strong enough now to bear the full weight of his sentiments without feeling smothered?

_I hope so._

Taylor purses his lips, seeing his message hit its mark, "So yes I am mad at you." His voice softens as he looks into my sad face. "Was mad at you."

I begin to crack a smile that he quickly wipes away by returning to his stoic persona, all chinks in his impenetrable emotional armour hidden under a front of chastisement. "Just don't leave him hanging like that again. It was bad enough that you left but doing it without an explanation was downright cruel. In fact, don't ever leave him again."

I assume he's done but just before I agree he speaks again. "At all. Ever."

_Okay, okay, I get the message._

I wait a beat then nod – cautiously as I keep my relief to myself.

He answers me with his signature head bob before he steps out of the SUV - talk over. He opens my door while scanning the underground parking with a trained eye. When he's satisfied with our safety he follows me to Chris' side. "If he doesn't wake up you'll have to carry him Mrs Grey. The boys will be with Gail and I have to keep my hands free."

He rests his hand on the top of the car door as he holds it open for me. Before I bend to retrieve my sleeping boy I find his serious stare. "No problem. And Taylor?" I have just enough courage to place my hand over his, in time we'll work our way up to a hug. "Thank you. For telling me and for looking after him."

I watch his Adam's apple travel down his throat he but says nothing, obviously touched. I know not to push too hard so before he feels obligated to say something I reach in and pick up my boy, noting that I won't be able to carry his sleeping form for long.

Chris wakes as we enter the well-lit hospital and before long he slips from my arms but he chooses to stay close, gripping my hand in the new, strange environment. Even a child can sense that this isn't a happy place.

Taylor is quick to navigate us through the maze of corridors and wards but when we get to Christian's room a nurse tells us that he's already in surgery. "I'll just get Dr Trevelyan for you." With that she scuttles off to find Grace and we walk the two doors down to the waiting area.

Taylor and I give each other a look, both surprised that she's not in on his surgery. With my mind not otherwise occupied and my beloved husband in surgery my body gives in to a delayed shock reaction. I start to tremble, like my every muscle is shivering individually. I feel how my blood gets swept away, redirected to the overactive fibres, far from my face, my heart working in double quick time.

By Grace's shocked expression I realise I must be pale as a sheet. "Ana, Jason." She says as she engulfs me in a big hug, her eyes warm and concerned. It's all I need to send me over the edge as I gratefully grab hold of her and sob into her white coated shoulder.

"There, there sweetheart. He's going to be fine." She strokes my hair in such a motherly way that I burrow deeper into her embrace, gratitude mingling with longing for the comfort of my own mother as my hands fist in the fabric covering her back.

Snivelling and juddering I force myself away from her, ready to hear the news concerning Christian. "Thank you mom," I say shyly, wiping my wet nose with the back of my hand.

Chris had his arm curled around my leg, shy and a tad insecure but now that his grandma is free he's keen for some attention. Clearly shaken by the turn of today's events he doesn't say anything but holds his arms out to her.

She picks him up and presses him to her, "Hello gorgeous boy." To a casual observer she looks pulled together and professional but I notice the strain behind her kind smile. _She's worried too._

"Listen angel boy, Lisa here will make you a balloon man if you go with her for a minute." Grace tilts her head in the direction of the nurse's station.

The nurse that spoke to us when we came in rounds the counter and holds out her hand to Chris. She smiles encouragingly at him, "And if you want we can draw a face on him." It doesn't take long for the lure of a balloon to convince him. Happily he skips into the supply room next door, holding on to nurse Lisa's hand.

Grace offer's me a quick smile when she sees the gratitude on my face. "As you know Christian is in surgery, he's been shot in the left, upper arm and by the looks of things he was extremely lucky. He's lost a lot of blood and it's my understanding that he resisted appropriate treatment until it was almost too late." Her lips forms a thin line as she presses them together, making her irritation with his irresponsible decision known.

My eyes grow large hearing that he put himself in danger like that. In fact, it makes me spitting mad even though I know that he was probably too hyped up on adrenaline and rage to pay attention to his injury. I can't help it, how can he protect us if he's gone? What's more I need a lifetime to make up for all the shit I put him through, I'm not nearly done showing him how much I love him.

Grace and I share our moment of ire at Christian before she continues. "Because of the distance the projectile travelled it lodged in his flesh without significant damage to the bone though there is some splintering from the unusual mushrooming bloom of the bullet tip."

She looks to Taylor as she explains the rest, "The cavitation wave of the bullet along with the high velocity should've created an exit wound but it didn't because it got imbedded. This isn't consistent with the clean wound of a full copper jacket from a sniper's round but I can't tell you why. Maybe the surgeon can shed some light on that when he's done."

"Dr Trevelyan, can I ask you to ensure that we get the bullet for ballistics, I'd much rather take care of it myself, I don't want Seattle's finest to drag their feet or lose valuable evidence."

"Of course Jason, I think we're all eager to get to the bottom of this." She turns back to me, "You look very pale Ana, are you going to be okay honey? I'll take Chris for a walk before I go back in for an update, maybe we can get an ice-cream."

I give her a wan smile, "I think so and thank you Grace, he'd like that." Just then he comes barrelling back to us. Excited as ever, he shows us a surgical glove that's blown up into a make-shift balloon. Eyes and a mouth are drawn on to make it look like a person with punk-style hair. When he hears that he's going for ice-cream he whoops and runs off with Grace.

Taylor and I take a seat and though I didn't quite get everything Grace just shared I take comfort the important things I did understand – _he was lucky, he'll be fine._

I seize the opportunity to grill Taylor properly. "Please tell me what happened after you locked us in the panic room."

Warily he eyes me before the cold blue of my gaze tells him that he doesn't have a choice. He sighs, resigned. "After we secured you, Collins and Carl went to the building opposite to investigate. I knew from the estimated trajectory that the attack probably came from the roof. We stayed in radio contact with them while Brandon got the police and the medics involved. Mr Grey and I briefly scanned the security footage of the monitors but I worried about how much blood he was losing."

He takes a sip from a plastic cup of water before he continues. "I made him lie down on my desk and applied a temporary pressure bandage with a towel to try and stem the bleeding but he's so damned stubborn. The entire time he was flicking through the recorded footage to see if we could pick out a suspect. Just before the paramedics arrived he spotted the perp on the roof and I directed Collins to the location but by that time the shooter and any evidence was long gone."

My heart stammers in my chest hearing the ugly, cold facts. Somehow the recount seems more real to me than the actual event did. "Do we know who it is, if you saw him on footage…"

"No ma'am, I could tell that it was probably a male, from the image he seemed a bit big to be female. He was dressed in black coveralls. He wore dark glasses, had a cap pulled really low over his face and a hoodie covering the back of his head. We couldn't even see hair colour. The footage we have is also quite brief. It has him running, hunched forward on the rooftop for maybe five seconds and then off camera, to a point where our surveillance camera has a blind spot."

_How can we have a security camera with a blind spot that's meant to be trained on a building that's exactly opposite us? _To me that seems like security 101 but considering the volatility of the situation I refrain from questioning him about it.

"How would he know where the blind spot is, wouldn't having that information be a clue in itself?"

He does a slight double take, surprised at my observant comment, "It would Mrs Grey and we'll certainly investigate that but at the same time we have no proof that he did know. The area of the blind spot also happens to be a convenient point from which to take a shot into the great room so that might be the only reason he chose it."

I slump into my chair, dejected at another seemingly unanswered question. I dread asking the next one but I have to know. Steeling myself I force it off the tip of my reluctant tongue, "Who do you think the bullet was meant for?"

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**Chapter 31 on its way.**

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	31. Chapter 31

**Thank you to those readers who always make the effort to review. Your words are always appreciated. With this chapter I'd like to thank a family friend and officer of the law: CC thank you for your help re all the CSI stuff!**

**Chapter 31**

Never have I seen Taylor go so pale. He gives me a long stare, narrowing his eyes before he lets out a slow breath, letting it whistle through his teeth. "I can't say for sure but my gut tells me it was meant for Christian."

I hear my blood thrumming through my ears, a sound not unlike that of a cicada insect's singing. The sudden rush of oxygen forces my head into a swim; the woozy feeling making my belly squirm in the worst possible way. I don't know if there was an answer I would have preferred but I can say for sure **this** is not it.

He presses his lips together at the sight of my ashen face, "Mrs Grey." For a beat he pauses, brow quirked. "Ana. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

I can only blink my assurance as I wonder the same thing and battle to keep down what little I ate today.

After his signature short nod he looks into the distance, getting lost in his own analytical thoughts, "That's not to say I don't think that you're not involved, in fact, I have a feeling that this whole thing is deeply personal for the perp. The type of personal you can only get from scorn."

His words rip a gasp from my breath, "You mean someone who thinks we hurt him?"

"Hhm, yes, but it's more than that. If I were to profile this person I'd guess that this behaviour would be outside of his normal character. He's being driven to extreme measures by something that's touching him deeply. He feels the need to set something right in his world and his perception is that Christian and to some extent you, skewed it."

Like watching a car wreck I find the conversation oddly fascinating, Taylor speaks with such eloquent certainty that it's hard not to follow the story he weaves. "Like a crime of passion, a temporary blind rage that makes you do things you won't normally do?"

Still thoughtful, he doesn't meet my gaze, "Yes. Exactly like that. Look at the bullet as an example. Dr Trevelayn said that it lodged and mushroomed, that it wasn't consistent with a hard copper jacket projectile. Usually a sniper would use a copper jacketed round. It would have to be a decent calibre because of the distance that it would need to travel in order to reach the target, like this one obviously did, but because they're excellent shots they don't need fancy additions to their rounds to make the kill shot. Things like softer hollow point bullets that tear through the skin making a big exit wound and rip everything in between to shreds because of said mushrooming head are unnecessary."

Briefly he focuses on me, maybe to ensure that I'm keeping up with his explanation or maybe to check on my pallor. "I'm with you." I say licking my dry lips. I sit on my hands to stop them fidgeting.

Seemingly satisfied that I'm not about to faint he picks up the thread of our conversation, "A hard projectile like the copper jacket would've travelled straight through a fleshy part like Christian's upper arm but instead it got lodged which means that a soft tipped round was used. I'm fairly certain that wasn't a hollow point either, not enough damage for that." He winces in sympathy as he imagines what harm a vicious bullet like a hollow point would do.

"My guess is that it was a lead and copper mix, making for a much softer head like one would use for hunting."

"As in animals?" The incredulous note underscores my surprise at his statement perfectly. _Why would someone use a hunting rifle to shoot at us?_

"The very same. The guy is clearly bright but he definitely doesn't have a police or military background and he's no professional sniper. We'll be able to make some reasonable assumptions once we see the piece embedded in Christian's arm, unfortunately we can't match the bullet with the weapon unless we have the actual rifle to match the barrel striations on the bullet but we'll know the calibre for sure."

_Okay._ Most of that went over my head but I think I get the gist of it, we'll have some clues. "I still don't understand the part about this person acting out of character."

"Doing what he did today isn't normal for him; he doesn't know enough about taking a professional shot at someone, he's made too many mistakes. The bullet, I'm almost sure, is going to prove that the shot was fired from a hunting rifle. The scope he used glinted in the sun, because he was out in the open, on the roof. It gave away his position and ultimately cost him the kill. That's what tipped Christian off just before he fired."

He speaks in such a matter-of-fact manner, the terms kill, projectile, scope all suddenly part of the terms jostling around in my head. "So that's how Christian knew what was coming? He saved our lives." My hoarse whisper brings insight and with it a fresh batch of what-ifs, _if this psycho was just a tad more professional one or both of us would be dead right now._

_Mother fucking fucker!_

I skid through the stages of anger, hardly stopping at annoyance, frustration or infuriation and go straight to hostile, jumping right off my blue plastic, standard issue hospital chair, the metal legs clanging against the floor in protest of my speedy rise. "He could've been killed! No husband, no father for Chris. Who is this crazy fucker? Why haven't we caught him? He's still out there!" I yell at Taylor as if he didn't know, my arms flailing madly.

Taylor's rounded eyes betray his shock at my outburst only for a second before his look turns bewildered. "Uhm…," he says to my glaring face.

My hostility quickly gives way to hysteria, both hands fly to my face, covering the gut wrenching sobs. My shoulders shake with the heave of my juddering breaths as I wail my frustration and fear. Suddenly I feel violated, like something very private and dear was taken from me. I feel exposed, like danger is lurking around every corner when I realise it's my peace of mind.

Until today, in the back of my mind, I believed that Christian was overreacting in his usual, overbearing way. That the threat wouldn't encroach on our lives in such a personal manner. Now I'm wondering if staying in Seattle for the time being is a good idea.

With my new constant companion of dread I gasp, "Taylor, Chris is alone with Grace! We have to find him!"

Taylor gets up from his chair to grip me by the shoulders, his even baritone and quietly composed words forcing me to calm down, "Mrs Grey, I would never leave Chris unguarded; I am a professional after all. Grace has her own security detail. She's with Grace all the time, you just didn't notice her. She's with them now."

_Oh, of course._

"O… okay," I say my voice still stammering from my heavy tears. I blow out a long breath through the circle of my lips, feeling my equilibrium returning. "Why haven't we caught this guy yet?" now my gaze is pleading as I pose the question to Taylor and the universe in general.

He drops one hand, fisting it into his side. Two fingers of his other massages his forehead while he looks down at his shoes. "I don't know Ana. Nothing fits. My first thought was Mr Lincoln." Moving back he sits down again, lacing his fingers behind his head as he looks to the ceiling, as if asking Divinity for help.

My brow knits with a surprised frown. "Lincoln, as in Elena's ex-husband?"

"Yep. This is really Christian's story to tell but he screwed Linc over in business not too long after you left. He bought his company's shares right out from under him. He dismantled the company, selling off the pieces. I think he made some good money off it but his motive was certainly more than just plain profit."

I nod, recalling Christian mentioning that Linc beat Elena to a pulp when he found out she was having an affair. I don't know why but the news shocks me, Christian is a lot of things but vindictive isn't how I know him. I guess it must mean that he still feels something for her.

_He is married to you. Again!_ My subconscious is wagging a stern finger at me; her eyes are slits as she looks over the rim of her winged glasses.

"So you thought that Linc was getting back at Christian?" I prompt as I sit down, my legs all jellied from the emotional ride I've been on for hours now.

"Yes, I did but after checking and re checking it didn't add up. Obviously we have him under surveillance, just to be absolutely sure but I'd bet anything that it's not him."

_Okay._

Now he meets my gaze, a flash of hesitance jolts in this eyes before he continues, "With Linc out of the picture I thought maybe Jose." He lets the statement hang, giving me time to adjust to the idea. "Forgive me Ana, obviously Christian shared the details with me when he ran into you in Miami. With the level of security he needs we don't have the luxury of secrets." He shrugs his shoulders; momentarily I glimpse the weight of his responsibility bearing down on him. I can see the toll our threat is taking on him.

My face awash with a shameful blush I break the contact of our eyes. If Jose was indeed involved in this it would be all my fault. Looking back that e-mail I wrote on the plane and sent to him straight after we landed seems like a pitiful excuse for an apology now.

"And what do you think now?" my heart is beating so hard I hear it in my own ears, that cold shiver of anxiety stealing across my skin as a clammy sheen of sweat coats my lame limbs.

"Honestly? He also doesn't fit some aspects of the profile. I certainly can see him being mad, bitter and resentful but attempted murder?" he strokes his chin, thoughtful. "Unless… Ana are you sure you told Christian everything? No other major things go down between you two that can help us here?"

Startled I shake my head, vehemently. "I told Christian everything and I never, not once disclosed any of Christian's secrets." I swallow, hoping to get some relief from the sandpaper that's lining my throat. "Look, Jose can be very passionate about things, that Latin fire is in his spirit and I can attest to the change in him after I… After I did what I did but…, but I just don't see it. My dad still sees Jose senior, by all accounts Jose has been happier, even started dating again."

Taylor leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "He never liked Christian and he was desperately in love with you, any fool could see that he wanted you but I agree. If there's no other motive I don't see him going this far."

"Are you having him watched too?"

"We try to cover every possible angle so yes, we are. He travels a lot for work, when he's shooting on isolated locations it's not always so easy to keep tabs on him but at least then we know he's out of the country."

"I take it we've correlated his travel dates with the things that have been happening to us?" I watch him from the corner of my eye, nervously biting my lip.

He bristles slightly, sitting up a tad straighter, "We have Mrs Grey, some of them correspond but for others he was definitely away." After a pause he continues, more to himself than to me, "Of course he could be working with someone, the same goes for Linc but in a case like this it would be very unusual, especially considering how personally this person seems to be taking it." I watch his brow knit with a frown of concentration; mentally I see him trying this way and that to make the puzzle pieces fit.

_Ah, now I'm Mrs Grey again,_ I realise that I've overstepped a mark in questioning his professionalism.

We fall into a brooding, restless silence, leading my thoughts neatly back to my husband still in surgery. _When will we get some news?_

Minutes later Grace appears with Chris in hand, I'm inordinately relieved to see him; and her for that matter. This time I also take note of their shadow, a young, sharp looking black woman that does very well blending into the background but by her bright eyes, no less observant.

"Hey buddy, how was the ice-cream?" Dropping to my haunches I catch him in a bear hug, burying my nose in his hair, eternally grateful for the vital warmth of his healthy little form. _My precious son._

"It was good mommy, can we see daddy now?" The flatness in his tone and spirit is disturbing, gripping my heart into a worried crush.

I hold him in the hug, picking him up as I push through my knees to heft his weight. When I catch Grace's eye I see my concern reflecting there. Pressing her lips together she shakes her head, looking at Chris as she rubs his back with the flat of her hand – reassuring.

Her expression and my thoughts are the same. He's already being affected by today's ugly turn. I look to her for an answer to his question, lifting a gentle brow.

"Are you okay to have him while I check on Christian or do you still need some time?"

"No mom, we're done, for now. Thank you for taking him and please… Bring us some good news."

Her nod has her looking to the floor, I'm almost certain it's to spare me the worry in her stare. She pivots smartly, striding off, her gait professional and controlled.

Sitting down I let Chris straddle my legs so I can talk to him face-to-face. "Buddy, do you understand that daddy will be sore for the next few weeks. We're going to have to be very gentle with him. Only soft hugs." I lift his chin with my finger, searching his sad little face.

Unwilling to look at me he agrees but his heart isn't in it, "Mm-hm." It's clear that he's finding this hard to understand.

Grace's return interrupts our mother-son chat, "Ana, Jason, he'll be awake in a minute or so. The surgeon said it all went well. Apparently it took forever to find all the tiny little splinters of bone but he'll regain full use of the arm once it's healed." The earlier chalk-white tone of her skin has reclaimed some of its usual rosy glow.

I close my eyes and tilt my head to the heavens, thanking God for answering my hasty, fervent prayers. I'm beginning to feel like I owe Him a debt. "Can we see him now?"

"I think he would want that," she smiles kindly at me. "You go first; I'll bring Chris in a minute." I read between the lines of her offer: _check to make sure Christian looks well enough to see Chris before we upset him more._

With a heavy sigh and a shake of my head I feel the tears prickle behind my eyes. I'm so grateful for her strong hand and guidance right now. "Thank you," I mouth at her, inclining my head to punctuate my gratitude.

"Buddy, I'll go check on daddy to see if he's ready, will you stay with grandma for a minute or two?"

Without a word he bunches his small fist into my shirtsleeve, his head finds the crook of my neck where he lodges it in that very stubborn manner he's inherited from his father. "Huh-uh."

Just like dad he's unmovable when he gets like this. "Chris, honey." I sigh as I try to put a little distance between us so I can reason with him. "I'll only be a minute baby; can you give mommy a minute?"

He burrows deeper, only pressing himself closer. This time the _huh-uh_ is muffled as he mumbles it against my skin.

I give Grace a resigned look but she misses it as her eyes crinkle in the corners with her mirth. She has her mouth covered with her hand, despite our circumstances she has to stem her giggles as she recognises the mini version of Christian on my lap.

Taylor surprises us both by being the one to have a go at prying him away from me. "Hey champ, look what I have here. It's a stop watch and I've got it set on 60 seconds. That's exactly one minute." I watch him tap at the face of his smart phone but he stays seated, speaking to Chris in a conversational, no-pressure voice."

I feel my boy respond by turning his head toward Taylor as his interest gets piqued but he's not ready to go yet. I give Taylor an encouraging smile over Chris' shoulder.

Looking very interested in his phone Taylor continues to draw him in, "So I'll just set it like this. And then if I press this button it will start to count down. It will make a big noise when mom's time is up then I can race in there, only I have to find someone to race with me." Thoughtfully he taps his chin with a finger.

Chris is suddenly upright as he sucks in a breath, "Let me see then I'll race you." Without so much as a backward glance he's off my lap and onto Taylor's, completely taken in.

I seize my chance and dash to Christian's side, more than anything I want to be there when he opens his eyes. My strained heart is thumping manically as I push open the doors to his private suite. His magnificent bare chest is only just visible from beneath the flimsy blanket. Both his arms are resting along the sides of his body, on top of the blanket, the left one heavily bandaged.

Seeing him laying here, still pale has me reeling about the possibility of losing him. Involuntarily I bite my lip, drawing blood from the barely healed split in an effort to stem the swelling tide of fear and desolation.

_My heart, my love._

Tenderly, reverentially I stroke over his forehead, down his sculpted jaw, along his beautifully turned shoulders and bicep of his right arm before his eyes flutter open. "Baby," he breathes and smiles. Only Christian can look heart stoppingly gorgeous waking up from surgery after a gunshot wound.

I lean over to kiss his forehead, lingering and loving that my lips are pressed to his warm, reassuring skin. "Husband of mine I …" My murmur is interrupted by an appreciative purr. It may be the drugs talking but then again, it may very well just be him, he's obviously feeling well enough to nuzzle into the hollow of my throat and cop a sneaky feel of a convenient breast squashed against the underside of his face.

I giggle then straighten instantly as I hear the unmistakable rush of an excited toddler. "Daddy, daddy, did you get a Band-Aid? Is it a big one? Did they give you some ice-cream? Ice-cream always makes it better." The tumble of his chatter is followed by a quick clamour onto Christian's bed, his face shining with excitement.

_Wow,_ his mercurial shift in moods tops even his dad's. "Buddy, remember that you need to be gentle with daddy okay?"

After a solemn nod his attention is back with Christian, expectant. "Hi baby boy." Christian says raking his fingers through Chris' hair. There's a definitive awe and wonder in his slightly croaky voice, happy to be alive and here with his family around him. "I don't have a Band-Aid but I have a bandage, look how big it is."

Regardless of the pain it might cause him he lifts his left shoulder, showing off the pristine bandage. "Wow!" Chris is suitably impressed, now intent on comparing battle scars. He rolls up his pant leg to show Christian a two inch scar that sits just to the right of his knee. "This one needed three Band-Aids!" he holds up four fingers making us all smile.

"I was okay after that fall," he says to Christian as his brow furrows with his thoughts, then places his small hand on his dad's shoulder. "You'll be okay too," the earnest delivery is adorable and earns him a one armed hug from his slightly overwhelmed father.

I'm grateful for Grace's timeous arrival just then; it will keep my boys from seeing how close I am to breaking down. "Darling," her tone conveys so many different things; relief, love and a good measure of annoyance.

I couldn't agree more, waiting to be treated was a senseless thing to do.

She grabs his hand and rubs the back of it against her cheek. "I hate it when you scare me like that. You silly man, you really should know better!" her lilt is only mildly scolding. I guess it's because he's just been through surgery; under different circumstances I think she would've been much harder on him.

My turn to chip in and I'm not feeling half as sorry for him as she is, "Silly doesn't begin to describe it, you have a family to think of, I can't believe that you put yourself at risk like that!"

My darling, maddeningly frustrating husband does what he always does, he takes the wind right out of my angry sails, "Why Mrs Grey, I'm delighted to see that you care so much about me. Am I to surmise from your little outburst that you'd miss me?" As if the panty dropping smile isn't enough he gives it to me in full HD with a lascivious wink.

_Gah!_

I can't help but laugh, he should be groggy and slow but instead he's playful. "Yes Mr Grey," I wag my finger at him in my best schoolmarm impression. "I care! I care a whole damn lot!" My voice wobbles then falters as reality chooses this moment to hit me fast and hard. A great hacking sob issues from my lips and a gush of hot, scared tears follow in its wake. I rush to Christian's free side, flinging my arms around his neck, none too careful.

_Talk about mercurial._

"I love you so much," I mumble through the sudden flood.

"Hey baby, please don't cry. I'm fine. I love you too." His pleading whisper penetrates my veil of misery, reminding me that I have to be strong for him and our son.

Still in the nook of his neck I supress the effusive waterworks, eager to be the one my family can lean on in this crisis. With a trailing row of smacking kisses down the side of his face I pull away putting on my mommy-in-charge face. "Right, you need some rest Mr Grey so when Taylor and later the boys come back you can talk. I'm sure you're anxious for some answers. Chris and I will go have a bite to eat at the cafeteria downstairs and give you some peace. We'll be back a little later. I'll just unpack your things."

Keeping my mind off this horror is going to help me cope. I throw myself into the menial task of unpacking Christian's toiletries and clothes, put his laptop on the bedside table then leave to find someone to organise more beds for the night. There's no way I'm leaving my injured husband alone in this hospital. I know he won't let us go home so we might as well stay here instead of some random hotel.

With Grace's clout it's easy to arrange two extra cots for the night, no doubt Chris will be thrilled - to him this will seem like an adventure. The room is slightly too small to accommodate three full beds but I plan on pulling mine right up to Christian's.

I find Chris where I left him, still on Christian's bed, chatting away and rubbing his tired eyes. "Come angel boy, let's leave daddy to rest. We can eat something and then we'll get to sleep here tonight!" Christian opens his mouth to object but Chris is already bouncing on the bed, howling his joy.

My husband sends me a dark look, savvy to my scheming plan but I ignore him. Nothing in the world will drag me away from him tonight. After another kiss he waves us off, "Take Taylor with you." His last command as we leave the room is delivered in his Dom voice, not to be discounted.

_Yes sir,_ I think to myself and smile as I lead my boy to find food. In the passageway we meet Taylor who's in deep discussion with another security type. We stop a little way away, waiting for him to finish. A moment later he calls us over to introduce us; "Mrs Grey, I'm sure you remember Sawyer."

The broad shouldered guy swivels round; a wry smile twists his mouth. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the infamous escape artist. Good to see you again Mrs Grey." His voice is dripping with sarcasm and mercifully, with mirth as well.

The heat of my face feels like a furnace blast, cheeks, ears, neck, every showing bit of my skin is bright red. I spot the pink tinge on Taylor's ears; he too is sensing the awkwardness of the situation. "Luke. Good to see you," I splutter in recognition.

_Gulp._

I shake his hand, hoping in vain he doesn't notice the blaring scarlet of my face. Taylor's explanation is on hand, "Just a quick private job for us while we wait for the other three, I needed someone who already knew the drill and Sawyer happened to be free."

Luke is the obvious choice but no less embarrassing for me. I shove Chris in front of me, keen to get off the subject. "This is Chris," I say bluntly.

Sawyer's eyes light up with recognition and understanding like he's already been filled in. He extends his big hand, dwarfing Chris', "Hi there little man, I'm on duty at your daddy's door tonight."

_Cringe._

Chris shakes his hand, nodding again then saves me. "Mommy can we eat now?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at me. Boy I love him. _Good timing buddy,_ I think.

They pass a look between themselves before Taylor leaves Sawyer to guard the entrance to Christian's room.

_Phew!_

"I'm sorry about that Mrs Grey; I didn't have time to warn you." He appears genuinely contrite, but even if he wasn't I can't hold it against him. I brought that awkwardness on myself.

"I understand, don't worry about it." I can be gracious now, away from Sawyer though he seems not to be holding a grudge.

"How is Mr Grey? I missed checking in on him, had to get that bullet to a ballistics buddy of mine."

"He's fine, just like himself. I'm so mad at him though, that he took such an unnecessary risk with his life."

Taylor shrugs, acknowledging my right to be angry but also knowing Christian well enough not to expect anything else.

At the hospital canteen Chris takes a few bites and promptly falls asleep with his head on my lap while Grace and I make small talk, not ready to tackle the ugly issue of our threat. After the crappy meal we head back to Christian, tired and stressed.

Just as we arrive at Christian's door the quiet corridor fills with the sounds and bulky forms of Collins, Brandon and Carl. "Wow, you back from Portland already? That was quick." That's a five or six hour round trip.

"Yes ma'am. We did some low flying to get back here." Brandon shoots me a droll grin. "Any news?" He looks to Taylor who's bearing a distinctly stern frown at his junior colleagues disregard for their own personal safely and the speed limit. I find it comforting that in spite of his burly appearance the edge of concern in Brandon's deep baritone is obvious. Christian has a way of inspiring respect and loyalty in people.

_Except for this crazed, shooting maniac!_ The uncharitable thoughts and choice expletives I have for this faceless asshole who's threatening my family is endless.

All three of them manage to look sheepish at Taylor's glare. "Mr Grey came through the surgery just fine. Join us, we'll brief him now."

Brandon is at my side, "Let me take him for you ma'am." He holds out his arms for Chris as he's draped over my shoulder, out for the count.

"Thank you," with as much care as I can muster I pass him to Brandon. "I'll check on Christian to see if he's up for visitors." As I pass Sawyer I lift my fingers in a tentative wave, I see the sardonic smile hasn't left his face.

The sound of my entry alerts Christian, making him turn to me as he looks away from his laptop, rubbing his eyes. "Hey baby, where's Chris? How was dinner?"

"You should be resting Mr Grey." I admonish but really not surprised that he's up. "Brandon has him, he's fast asleep and dinner was terrible." I wrinkle my nose and Christian chuckles.

"Is Taylor outside?"

"Yes, and all the others. They want to brief you before we all go to bed."

"Okay, but before then come here."

His eyes follow me as I walk toward him; he beckons me with his uninjured arm. When I reach his side he curls a strong arm around my waist. "You okay?"

I feel like curling up into his nook and crying my heart out but I don't. Instead I put on a brave face. "As good as I can be, under the circumstances. I'll be even better if you take your injury seriously and take it easy." I give the laptop a pointed stare.

After a moment's hesitation he concedes, "I'll try. I just… Fuck Ana. If it was you or Chris instead of me…" His grip pulls me closer.

"I know." In fact I know exactly how he feels because what he fears has happened to me, to us. He was shot, almost killed. I just wish he could see it from my point of view.

After our moment alone I let the security team in. I turn down a cot and Brandon lays Chris down. For such a big guy his gentleness is touching. With loud scrapes they all rearrange some chairs to fit their big frames. I perch beside my husband on his bed. No way am I going to let him keep this from me.

"Glad to see you in one piece sir." Taylor's attempt at being dry fails miserably as his voice cracks at a critical moment, giving away his sentiment. He cares for Christian; I don't think he would ever forgive himself if Christian got killed.

"Glad to be in one piece." Christian smiles, telling Taylor in his own way that he got the message. "What have you found out?"

He clears his throat, "Undoubtedly a .308 round sir. No surprise there, it's very reliable in longer distances and if the target is hit correctly, very effective." He pulls out his phone and swipes a picture into view, turning it to Christian. The retrieved bullet tip comes into view and suddenly I understand what me means with mushrooming. What I assume is the back of it is still intact but the front looks like it splattered against something flat. It's almost double the size of the back and completely distorted.

He continues, letting his phone make the rounds amongst us. "The interesting thing though is that it mushroomed. It means that the round was soft tipped but I suspect heavy for the calibre. Maybe 160 grains or so would be my guess." He catches Christian's surprised watch and nod, the unspoken understanding already in place.

"I've no doubt sir, that the shooter used a hunting rifle. It explains the soft tip, the effective traveling distance, the neat entry hole through the glass wall at Escala and ultimately why you haven't suffered a more severe injury with an exit wound the size of a soup bowl."

I watch the grey in Christian's gaze turn almost black as his anger from this morning resurfaces. "A fucking hunting rifle? What the fuck does that mean?"

**Thank you for reading, chapter 32 to follow.**

**Please don't forget to review!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Hello dear readers, for those of you that don't know please find my other stories: Christmas Meander (FSOG) and Crossfire Meander (Sylvia Day's Crossfire Series) here on Fan Fiction. Thank you for your reviews, your words are so motivating.**

**Chapter 32**

Taylor splutters, his bug eyed stare is uncomfortable. "Well sir," he clears his throat. "It just confirms that we're not dealing with a professional," he holds up his hand when Christian wants to interrupt. "That's a good thing." He looks to his colleagues who are all nodding their assent. "If we were dealing with someone who had the wherewithal to find and hire a professional, I'd say we'd be in much deeper trouble."

"Okay, so what else does it tell us?" Christian's full attention is on Taylor, though an absentminded thumb is skating back and forth across my hand. I think it's admirable that Taylor doesn't wilt under the weight of that sharp, steel gaze.

"Quite a bit actually. Our perp is a hunter with a good eye and a serious grudge. I'd stake my life on the fact that we know him well, this is not some distant, unknown person with a skewed perception of bitterness."

"So the list of candidates remains the same, which hasn't brought us anything so far?" Christian isn't expecting an answer, merely going along with Taylor's train of thought.

"Yes sir," he says in that measured, authoritative timbre of his. "Also the weapon was silenced. Neither the police nor any of us could find anyone who heard a shot."

Christian bobs his head, "He's bright enough to use a silencer but not experienced enough to predict the scope's glint."

"That's correct; a professional would have avoided that angle or would have added an addition to the scope to stop the glint. It's a rookie mistake."

"Just hold on a sec," I say, trying to piece things together in my own way. "A .308 is a big round right?" Thanks to Ray I know enough about bullets to at least understand the difference between the calibres.

Again Taylor nods, "It's a big round alright. Almost three inches tip to bottom." He holds up his index finger, measuring a section off with his other hand to demonstrate. I see him catch Sawyers watch to confirm the accuracy of his statement.

"So how come the glass didn't shatter?"

I expect the answer to come from Taylor but Christian responds instead, "Baby, the glass is laminated so it doesn't shatter. It's a safety precaution, like shopfront windows. Also with the smart glass you want it to keep working even if it has a crack or, in this case, a hole." He lifts my hand to kiss it, a momentary warm glow burning there just for me.

_Ah._ I smile with my small blush. He still thinks I did well turning the window opaque again though he's the one that noticed the scope and ultimately saved us. I motion for Taylor to continue.

"There's that and I suspect that the bullet's charge was loaded. It makes for a heavy round that punches neatly through things like glass." Taylor slips his thumbs into his belt and rocks back on his heels – done for now.

"How sure are we that we're dealing with a man?" This time Christian directs his question at them all.

Brandon takes the cue sitting up in his chair, "Personally I'm in agreement with Taylor's assessment of that sir. We've all seen the CCTV footage, the build, the movement and the size. It all points to a male perp."

"Are there any others on the list besides Linc and Jose?" This time I face Christian, I want to measure his reaction.

If he's surprised that I already know of two candidates on the list he doesn't show it. "Yes, two more but you don't know them. Both are former employees. One was dismissed for industrial espionage and the other for a sexual harassment situation."

"Do we know if they hunt because I know for sure that Jose can handle a rifle, he and his dad have been hunting deer with Ray on more than one occasion." Again the cold clutches of fear grips my heart, raising the little hairs on the nape of my neck.

"Welch is on it Ana, we should have that intel shortly along with the ballistics report that's being rushed by a law enforcement buddy of mine." Taylor scrubs the back of his neck, his brows drawn in deliberation. "As far as Linc is concerned I'm almost certain that he's hunted enough times not to exclude him entirely."

With the latest information on the table I notice the boys growing restless, like they're itching to get out there and find this bastard. Christian picks up on it too, "Okay, let's see what we have once Welch and ballistics come back to us. Sawyer, thanks for taking up the slack here, it's been good to have you on the team again." Sawyer flashes him a rare smile before Christian addresses the team. "Who's with us tonight?"

After Carl looks to Collins he speaks up, "We'll take the first shift. You better get some shuteye buddy." They all look to Taylor whose exhaustion in written in his tired eyes and the blackened hollows surrounding them.

Taylor grumbles but concedes - a true professional he knows a clear mind is the most valuable tool on the job. Sawyer shakes hands with the guys and slaps a big paw on Taylor's back, "I've got a little leave coming my way, I'm happy to stay on and help out. I owe Mr Grey one." He gives me a pointed look with his one brow cocked, that wry smile still taunting me.

I'm never going to hear the end of this but at least he's not mad. The awkwardness of the moment has all the guys except Christian looking everywhere but me, their reaction making me all too aware of my fierce flush of shame. Christian is plain glaring; he'll never forgive me for that stunt.

Arrangements made they file out and I grab a moment to check on my sleeping boy. I'm glad that he fell asleep so easily and staying asleep. Those tiny ears are not meant to hear about things like perps and rounds.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" the note of concern in Christian's voice is at once unmistakable and heart-warming, the undercurrent of regret speaks volumes. _He loves his son._

I pull the covers right up to his chin, bending down to kiss his dozing head. "I hope so. It's hard to say how much of this he understands." When I turn to face my husband he looks forlorn. Two steps have me at the edge of his bed, "What's wrong Christian?"

"You're in danger because of me, I can't stand it. You have to leave." He grips my hands with both of his; he doesn't even register the pain it must be causing him. His plea is fervent, impassioned and, as far as I'm concerned, dangerously close to being unreasonable.

_What?! If this turns out to be Jose this will all be my fault. Doesn't he see that?_

I literally stomp my foot, ready for a fight. "No way!"

"Ana, this is not up for discussion. These are your _**LIVES**_ we're talking about and I'm not gambling with them no matter what you say." His tone is low, not wanting to wake Chris but it bears no less bang. I know that look of determination a little too well, nothing I say will change his mind but it won't stop me from trying.

"There is no way I'm leaving my injured husband to face this alone. I can't believe you're even asking me to do this." A staccato squeak of frustration creeps into my voice, I glare daggers at him as I press my lips together in annoyance.

"That's because I'm not asking, I'm telling." He folds his arms across his chest as he lifts his chin, thinning his mouth into a stubborn slash.

_Crap, shit! _I drop the anger in lei of a different tack, "Why are we fighting? It's the last thing I want to do."

"Me either baby but can't you see how serious this is? Can't you understand that I want you out of harm's way?" he says with a dramatically tempered version of his former anger.

"Of course I do but can't you see I feel the same? Can you imagine how worried I'll be about you, here on your own with this… this… madman intent on hurting you - us?"

He blinks at me, startled. "I won't be alone, I'll have Taylor and you and Chris will be safe. That's what I need right now."

Ready again to take up this argument I cross my own arms in front of my chest, "And what about what I need huh? For in case you haven't noticed: You've. Been. Shot! There was nothing Taylor or anybody could do about that. And where do you think Chris and I will be safe enough? If this fucker has the reach he obviously has, then where exactly do you think Chris and I should go? This whole thing is just too crazy, too unpredictable."

Having expressed these thoughts out loud brings it home for me - enough to start crying. Not because I'm sad but because I'm burning with frustration, without hope for a solution that will keep us all alive and well. Like splitting up will force the shooter's hand and he'll throw everything he's got into the pursuit of one of us alone.

"I know baby," he motions me over and I go willingly, curling up in the nook of his good arm. "I want you to go to your dad's. A military man who understands the severity of the situation and has a vested interest in keeping you safe, it's the best place for you and Chris right now. He'll appreciate the need for extra security and he'll know how to manage them."

"And what if this threat follows us there?" I whisper against his naked chest, taking a little comfort from the steady thump of his heart under my ear.

"It won't. You'll tell no-one, not even your mom and you'll stay there until this is over. Carl and Collins will go with you."

"I don't like it Christian. I'm going to worry myself sick. Where will you stay? Who's going to look after your injury?"

He kisses the top of my head, pulling me closer, "I'll be fine baby. I'll stay at the Fairmont and my mom can take care of my arm."

I snort at his easy dismissal of my arguments, _how does he know he'll be fine? _"You can't say that for sure." I'm exasperated that he seems to be unable to see that he's not immune to this lurking danger.

I feel him shrug under me, casual, like his life doesn't mean as much. I push up and away from him, staring in disbelief at his unfazed face, "It's not just you anymore! There are two more people in your life that depend on you now. Do you understand?" I poke at his chest with my finger, really getting riled.

He catches my finger with an iron grip then flattens my hand onto his chest by covering it with his own. "What do you want me to do? I want to draw this fucker out so we can end this, if I hide it will only drag this whole thing on and on and I have a life I want to get back to. A wife and a son."

His words hit me with the force of a blow, nasty realisations rattling around in my brain. "You want to use yourself as bait? Even though his low voice was even, confident I'm sure I must've misheard him. _Please let me not have heard right._

"It's the only way baby."

_Holy fuck! _Jerking myself even further away I look at him, horrified. "No way Christian, sending me to Ray is one thing but playing chicken with a crazed maniac is not something I'll stand by and let you do. How can you even consider…."

"Anastasia!" He cuts me off. "Need I remind you that you made a promise before God and the world that you would obey me?"

I issue a loud gasp, sucking in a sharp, shocked breath. We stare at each other, the stalemate of our conversation dawning on both of us. When I regain my ability to speak my voice is a raspy whisper. "Really Christian, you're playing that card. Now?"

The stubborn set of his jaw together with the rigid line of his shoulders are answer enough even if I don't consider the hard glint in his cold, steel stare. "I'll play whatever fucking card I have to if it means keeping the two of you safe and to end this fucking nightmare."

_Shit! I knew that might come back to haunt me. _It's clear to me that, for the moment, we've reached an impasse. I'll have to sleep on it and try a different tack in the morning. On top of this fucking nightmare, as Christian so eloquently put it, I'm clashing with my beloved, injured husband when all I want to do is take care of him - t_his is such a mess!_

I release a slow breath, hanging my head in defeat. Fear, nausea, anger, frustration - all make up the vile boil in my knotted belly as I flop onto the side of his bed. The room blurred through the shimmer of tears that film my eyes.

I feel Christian shift on the bed, dragging himself closer to me, "Baby?" he whispers. "I love you, I don't want to argue. I want you to listen to me and do as I tell you. You knew the deal and you agreed. Don't force me into doing something drastic to keep you safe, I don't want to scare you." One hand is rubbing my back, the other stroking my thigh.

Images of bonds and gags and crates cross my mind's eye before I risk a look into his pleading face. Desperation is what I see there together with a good measure of despair. In that instant I know that I can't be responsible for doing that to him ever again. He's forced my hand, my nod as slight as my approval for this foolish scheme.

"I would die if anything happened to you, please tell me you understand that?" with my tone, my gaze and my being I beseech him, frantic to make him understand my degree of my reluctance and dread. I rest my palm on the prickly stubble of his dear cheek.

He pulls my upper body into his chest, banding his arm around me with complete disregard for his injury. In his tight embrace is where I feel safe, the only place I want to stay. "I do baby. Trust me."

After a long while of mentally counting the reasons I should stay he sends me to the en-suite to get ready for bed. With the steady beat of water sluicing against my skin I cry hard, able to give free rein to the panic twisting my insides. I really don't want to go to my dad's and in spite of Christian's general competence I don't trust this plan one bit. Maybe Ray can help me talk some sense into him.

Christian is still awake when I slip into the cot next to him, my whole body tense with worry. "You feeling better baby?"

I can't answer without lying; if I start talking I fear I'll never be able to stop the brimming tears. "You should be resting Mr Grey, you must be exhausted." Already he's not taking care of himself.

"I'm not tired and you'll be gone tomorrow, I'd rather talk to you." I hate the sound of that, like he's saying that he wants to chat while we still can, like there may not be another opportunity but I can't deny his logic. My brain is too fried to sleep anyway.

I sigh and relent, turning in the starchy bed to face him. "How is your arm feeling? The doctor said that it should heal well." If I really am leaving tomorrow then I'd best avoid the topics that will reignite a row.

He shoots me a lopsided grin, "Dunno, painkillers are good though." His attempt at levity fails entirely but I smile anyway, albeit weakly, plastic.

Every time I look at him the enormity of the situation threatens to engulf me, currently it prompts me into a wave of gratitude, "I'm so glad you're okay." The words feel hollow in my mouth, horribly inadequate. I reach over to touch him, first running my fingers through his hair then trailing down his neck so I can trace the vital veins that are mercifully still throbbing with his life. _No, glad does not begin to describe how I feel._

Christian senses my sentiment, "I'll be fine baby, this will all be over soon," he promises then returns my gentle stroke by cupping my jaw. _I wish with all my might I could believe him._

"I've been meaning to ask you, what ever happened to that psycho boss I had at SIP? John was it? No, Jack. Jack Hyde?" The guy has been clattering around the back of my mind for some time now. _Why is he not on the list?_

Christian's loving look is instantly replaced with a sour one. "That might be the only good thing that came from you leaving. If I couldn't find you then he sure as hell wasn't going to."

His cryptic statement leaves me baffled, "What do you mean?" I say as my brow knits into a tight frown.

He shakes his head, looking away as he remembers the past. "I very nearly killed him Ana. I've no doubt that he would have gone after you if he had a choice but instead he targeted Mia."

I gulp, staring at him with rounded eyes, "He went after Mia? What happened?"

He flips back onto his back, his good arm's bicep bulging when he throws it over his head. His gaze cuts to the ceiling, "he kidnapped her, tried to negotiate a ransom for her."

I grip the front of my neck in shock, "No!" the implications flash across my mind, if it were me instead of her I'd be pregnant and at the mercy of a derailed psychopath bargaining with Christian. It's too horrific to even contemplate.

He nods in answer to my word as he hears the sick abhorrence in my tone. "Sawyer and Taylor really came through for me when we made "the drop" but when we found him I lost it. If the boys didn't pull me off him I don't think I would've been able to stop."

The air commas he uses tells me that doing a fake drop was what they planned in order to catch Hyde. I'm not surprised that he beat the crap out of Hyde; he wanted to do that the night he met him. I'm sure that his frame of mind wasn't helped by me still being MIA. With that realisation I glean yet another reason to feel guilty.

Pushing my own musings aside I get back onto the track of his story. "Christian that's horrible, please tell me he didn't hurt Mia." I hold my breath, my hand pressed against my heart to stop it from hammering right out of my chest.

"No, I made sure that he knew what would happen to his payload and to him if he hurt a single hair on her head." The shadow of disgust crossing his face is fleeting as my earlier thought dawns on him, blackening his gaze. "You were pregnant then." He doesn't say anything more, replaying the whole horrid saga with me in the lead instead.

"Don't do that Christian," I touch his shoulder to snatch his attention away from the past and into the now with me. He's clenching his jaw so hard I hear the angry grind of his teeth. When he lifts his stare it still burns bright with the latent embers of his hatred for Hyde.

"I'm fine, I'm here, there's no point in thinking about what could've happened," I breathe gently to pierce the enraged aura that comes off him in waves.

A moment later I see the bulk of his tension slip away as he shifts his focus back to me. "Where is he now? Shouldn't he be on our list?"

"He's in jail, where he belongs and if I can help it will be there until he rots to death."

Not often but every now and then he says things with such violence, such menace that he scares me. I can only nod as I cross Hyde off my mental list of perps. _Dare I broach another possibility or is he still too mad?_ I wonder as I eye him through my lashes.

"Do you think it could be more than one person trying to get to us, maybe even unrelated to each other?" I'll ease him into the question I really want to ask, figuring it's best to get him talking again.

"We've considered every conceivable option; this isn't something I've taken lightly Anastasia."

I backtrack quickly, not liking the assumption he just made, "I wasn't implying that you did but if you consider Dr Shawn for instance. He doesn't seem the type but is it possible that he's mad enough to take a shot at you for punching him?"

For some reason this makes Christian chuckle, "No, I don't think so."

_Oh_. "Do you think he'll press charges?" I probe.

"No, I don't and it's not Shawn."

His reaction has piqued my interest, he sounds so sure. His small smile is a little unnerving considering the conversation we're having so I can't help feeling suspicious. "How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me, I know." His quelling look tells me the conversation is over but now I'm certain that he's hiding something. _Hhmmm._

"Let me worry about all this crap. Why don't you go to sleep baby."

Just then my body betrays me with a yawn so I can't deny my exhaustion to keep talking to him. I kiss his lips, the soft touch of our mouths almost painfully wonderful under the circumstances. The thought of losing that mouth and the body attached to it the thing that will keep me from sleep for the rest of the night.

I punch my pillow into place wishing I could snuggle with him in his bed but I want him to be as comfortable as possible, hopefully he'll be able to get some rest.

An hour later I'm still awake. Unable to shut off the scary imaginings of my mind, I've shifted and tossed at least once every minute so far when I hear Christian's quiet voice, "Come here baby."

_Oh great!_ Now I've woken him with my relentless turning. "Why are you not asleep?" I whisper at him in the dark.

"Because I'm worried about my wife not sleeping." He's not mad but his timbre is dry.

Sighing I lift the covers and crawl onto his bed, careful not to bump his arm. His uninjured arm is stretched out in welcome as he lies on his side. I slip into the familiar spot, my back to his front and instantly feel better, safer, calmer. He kisses my hair while he drapes the hurt arm over my hips.

A second later I gasp as a naughty hand slips into my panties. "What are you doing?"

With his chin he clears my hair off my neck before he places a fleeting kiss behind my ear. "I'm getting you off so you can relax and we can get some sleep."

His hot breath on my neck is already doing wonders for my stress levels but we're basically in public with our son sleeping a few feet away. "What about Chris…" I stammer on a shiver as his magic hand slides a finger into me.

He drops another kiss on my neck but this one is hot and slow and wet, "You'll just have to be quiet," kiss, lick. "We have our backs to him," long lick. "And we have the cover over us." Kiss, lick, bite.

I'm not sure about this but my reservations disappear along with a second finger pushing inside me. "Aah."

"Hush baby. Sshhh." He soothes as my body temperature starts to climb.

His plan sure is working because, for the moment, I cannot think of anything but the slow, teasing movement of his hand in my pants. I reach behind me to return the favour but he stops me, "No, this one is just for you."

Under different circumstances I'd be surprised; concerned even but right now my brain is lit up in a thousand places that has nothing to do with rationality.

"Open your legs baby. I want to feel all of you." There's no way he's not turned on, I hear it in the gravely rasp he's just ordered me in, the lay of steel pushing against my backside.

I hook my top leg over the side of his to give him better access. "Always so eager Mrs Grey, feel how wet you are." He groans, low and appreciative, the vibrations of the sound moving through me, into me, making me quiver with need I didn't know I had.

He rims the shell of my ear with the tip of his tongue before pushing up on his shoulder. Leaning over he waits for me to turn my head to him so I can find his mouth. His tongue moves past my lips with the same deliberation and rhythm of his stirring fingers. His other hand brackets my throat, just firm enough to make his grip feel possessive.

Licking into my mouth he strokes me below, his fingers sinking deep before he drags them out, gently along the length of my slit. Over and over, in and out, touching that jolting bundle of nerves with every passing but never for longer than a split second. It's maddening, the anticipation between moments so great that I bite down onto his lip as I pump my eager hips into his tantalising hand.

"Aaahh," I gasp. "Please Christian."

"Hush, if you make a noise I'll stop." Those sexy, spoken words of his, no matter what they are, are always at least partway responsible for how hard I come, like he could make me orgasm by speech alone.

As if he knows, he continues talking, "hold still baby, feel me touching you." I bite back my moan as the tide in me starts to rise, waiting for that one wave that will send me breaking on the shore of release.

Sensing my stiffening he adjusts the speed of his fingers to match the rate of my pounding heart, setting off the ripples that grow larger and larger. When I arc my back his free hand flies to my mouth to shut it up, halting the gathering scream. "Come for me baby," is the last thing I hear as oblivion takes me.

He finishes me off with a slow circular motion, three fingers massaging me into the last of my pleasure as I jerk against him. "I love watching you come Mrs Grey," he says, pressing another kiss on my neck.

When I come to my senses I turn to him, curious to see what will happen next. "I love you. Thank you."

He smirks at me then slips those very three fingers into his mouth and sucks them off. It never fails to make me blush. "Mmm-hmm," he murmurs, licking his lips. "We aim to please Mrs Grey."

Giggling I stroke his face, "What about you Mr Grey?" with my knee I gently nudge the impossible-to-ignore erection prodding at my belly.

After a sharp breath he kisses my nose, "I want you to sleep baby." From playful he's gone very serious. I see the concern etched in the lines on his anxious face.

To lighten the suddenly sombre mood I use my patented distraction technique, "Is it safe to assume that that was another first for us Mr Grey?" to make my point I jangle the charm bracelet around my wrist.

Softly he laughs, "Yes Mrs Grey, definitely another first. I'll have to get you a little hospital bed."

**Please be kind and review!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Thank you for your kind reviews. For those of you who speak Italian, Meander is now being translated in Italian on my blog. You can PM me for the site address or just check my profile.**

**Chapter 33**

Stinging rays of bright light rouse me, still locked in Christian's arm. For a moment I enjoy the sensation of his warm, hard body twined around mine before reality makes a stark appearance in my sleepy daze. We're in hospital, it's my husband's uninjured arm that I'm wrapped in and today he wants to send me away.

Before I can start crying I open my eyes, blinking straight into the concerned slate of Christian's. My first blush for the day shows up, pinking my cheeks just because his scrutiny is so close.

"Hi," I say, missing him already.

"Baby." It's a greeting, a statement, a question - all in one. I'd be blind if I didn't see the love in his eyes, and the pain. He's torn up over our situation, not wanting me to go any less than I want to but our safety comes first. Always. Right now, I love and I hate him for it.

We stare at each other, miserable for a minute before Chris scales up our blanket covered limbs like a mountain. Turning, we both smile through our gloom. "Careful buddy, don't bump daddy's arm."

Chris turns to Christian, "Does it hurt daddy?" His small finger prods against the white bandage, blissfully unaware of the grave implications of the injury.

With a soft Chuckle Christian pulls him closer, ruffling his hair before a giggling tickle attack ensues. "No champ, not so much." They laugh as Chris tries to wiggle away from Christian's grip, not too hard though; it's fun to play with daddy.

I love hearing them so cheerful but that together with the emotions that are packed tight in my chest sends me to the en-suite, as much to brush my teeth as to hide the near tears.

The pitiful hospital shower does nothing to ease the growing tension in my body; I'd give anything to wash away our worries along with the soapy water down the drain. I throw on a pair of jeans and drag a comb through my wet tresses before I'm ready to face my treasured family again.

It occurs to me that Ray might not be home. Montesano is a long way from Vegas, he might still be on the road, enjoying the sights and unaware of the danger that we find ourselves in. Maybe Christian will change his mind about sending us there. It's a slim sliver of hope but something I can hold on to for the courage I need to ask him. I still can't believe that he's used my vow of obedience against me.

The scene I walk into trips my heart into a free fall. Chris is laying with his back to me and Christian is staring at him with the same look of reverence he wore for me a mere half hour ago. They're chatting, wholly at ease with each other. Christian's unwavering love and relaxed demeanour, all in spite of the circumstances, is precisely what Chris needs from him right now. It will go a long way in reassuring him if we really are to take this trip. I dread him sensing the dangerous reason behind our escape.

The urge to find this bastard and pummel him with my angry fists is becoming a fantasy that I indulge in with greater regularity that I care to admit. I'm also trying my best to be fearless in the face of this fiasco but truth be told I'm breathless with fright. My consciousness hovers inches away from a panic attack that looms to overtake me; the only saving grace - it all feels strangely surreal.

Getting closer I hear them talking about the trip to Montesano and what little hope I had flits away like smoke in the wind. Of course Christian has managed to get Chris excited about it when I feel nothing but terror.

I stretch onto the bed, gating Chris in between us. "What are my favourite boys doing?" the sunny tone in my voice is completely false, only there to keep Chris at ease.

"Mommy, we're going to visit grandpa!"

"Mmh," I say, "I'm not sure if your grandad is home yet." I risk a quick peek at Christian, a flicker of an annoyed spark clue enough that he knows what I'm doing.

"Ray is at home and expecting you." I feel bad that I'm responsible for his current curt tone but I honestly don't believe that we're better off apart. Before I have time to question how he adds to his reply. "Taylor had our cargo pilot pick him up last night. Charlie Tango is already back and on stand-by to take you there today."

_I should have known, _I groan.I just know that the hole in my heart will grow with every mile we travel away from him.

Resigned I give up a sigh as Chris yelps with joy. "We're going in the helicopter?" His saucered eyes are sparking excitement. Scrambling onto his haunches he bounces on the bed, "Yay! Yay! Yay!"

I can't share in Chris' elation when I feel this deflated but I smile anyway, rubbing his back. Christian sees my bleak expression, knowing me well enough to know when my smile is phony.

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be baby." His voice is barely a whisper, so only I can hear, not that Chris is paying attention when he bounces on his bottom like that.

My teeth rake my lip in a bid to keep the tears at bay, I lock my gaze with his and nod; no words can scrape past the lump in my throat. I nearly come undone when he runs the back of his knuckles down the side of my face.

"It will all be fine, Taylor will be here shortly. We'll have more information to go on. It's the beginning of the end of this nightmare."

I don't know how he can be so sure, I'm fairly certain that he's only trying to give me what he thinks I want right now - comfort. Any possible reply from me has the potential to send him into a tailspin, I don't want to argue nor show him how frightened I am. It will only send his protective instincts into overdrive so I swallow my retort, almost chocking on the words jamming in my throat.

I'm never sure what he'll do under extreme circumstances like this. He may not realise it but he needs managing, I can't bear to think what would happen if he ever got his hands on this person, there would be no stopping the cold violence, the blinding, viscous rage that would almost certainly drive him to do something he'll regret.

Mentioning the man brings him into Christian's room with a rapid fire knock on the door and an entourage of alert men to watch over us. After a quick nod for us and a rare smile for Chris, Taylor hands Christian an envelope. "Sir, the ballistics report."

Before he opens it I give him a look, a stern warning that elicits a slight wince, he knows what's coming. "No secrets okay? I'll take Chis for a walk." I hop off the bed enticing Chris away with the promise of breakfast. Much as I'd like to stay to hear what we've learned I can't allow Chris to hear this conversation.

With a fresh-faced Brandon manning the door Carl and Collins escort us to breakfast before they head home for some much needed R&R. I buy us all a round of coffee with a side of toasted sandwiches that only taste marginally better than cardboard. Out of the four of us Chris enjoys his the most, mainly because he's able to slurp it down with a rare treat of chocolate milk.

Along with the melancholy that's enveloped my heart like smog I feel edgy. The world seems awfully big to me right now, especially since we're looking for one person in it. Maybe we'll have some concrete news when we get back to Christian's room.

We arrive back just as the boys step out from briefing Christian. Taylor holds me back for a private moment as Chris runs to Christian's bedside. "We'll be ready to leave in an hour Mrs Grey." His watch slices away from me and onto the shiny grey floor as he contemplates his next words. When he meets my gaze again his is lit with a seriousness that makes my heart stutter. "I hope I can rely on your cooperation, Mr Grey will be livid knowing that I've spoken to you about this but you must appreciate that we have our plates full without you pulling some misplaced stunt."

I swallow a guilty gulp of air, feeling like a child. In fact his tone is exactly like the one Ray would use to scold me. I know he's right but seeing that we're negotiating I'm not letting the opportunity pass me by. "You have my full cooperation Taylor but I must ask you something in return."

I flush at his incredulous brow. His hard intake of breath heralds a string of words I'm sure I don't want to hear. "Do you have any…"

I cut him off with a quelling look and words more heated than his, "Just give me a moment will you?" When he clamps his mouth into a tight line, folding his obstinate arms over his broad chest I continue. "If you find him…" Having to utter the actual words now I flounder, not sure how to express myself. "When you find him," I correct myself, drilling deep into Taylor's gaze, "you better keep Christian away from him. I don't want my husband going to prison because he killed the bastard."

Christian's recount of beating the crap out of Hyde will remain a vivid reminder of what he's capable of when someone hurts the ones he loves plus our current situation, at least to me, seems even bleaker than that one. As much as I'm terrified of this perp I'm more afraid of losing my husband to what will only come naturally to him under those conditions.

Narrowing his eyes at me he rubs the back of his neck before extending a brokering hand to me, "Okay."

"Okay?" I ask, not ready to let my breath go just yet.

After a brief glance my way I get a glimpse of the avuncular Taylor that I got to know and love. His stern frown smooths as his eyes grow tender with familial affection. "Hey Ana, I get it. I've seen how he can be. You have my word. I'll do everything in my power to keep him from doing something irresponsible."

The pent up hug I've been holding for him finally breaks free. To his astonishment I fling my arms around his neck, embracing him like I would my dad. "Thank you. I promise there will be no stunts from me, escaping or otherwise."

He chuckles while patting me awkwardly on my back, reservation keeping him from showing emotion. The brief slip in his professional demeanour over when he straightens to give me my orders, "One hour Mrs Grey, we'll come and collect you."

I guess I can't ask for much more, this is hardly the time for levity. Dismissed I go in to find my husband. Grace is standing by the side of his bed holding a film against the light of a window. She and Christian both beam remarkably similar smiles at me considering that they're not genetically related before returning their attention to what I assume is an x-ray of Christian's arm. Chris is staring intently at it as she points some things out for him. Hopefully there's been no talk of bullets.

"Mommy, look! We have a picture of daddy's bones!"

I'll be damned if I'm going to make these last precious minutes unhappy. "Wow buddy I see! Isn't that amazing?"

With a broad grin he rattles off the latest thing he's learnt, eager to show his grandma that he listened. "My hand has 27 special bones." He holds up his spread hand for me to see.

We all laugh but Christian grabs him around the waist, pulling him into a hug, "All your bones are special champ but mine are just separate."

He giggles, "Oh yes, that's what I meant. Separate."

I give Grace a quick squeeze around the shoulders, "Hi mom, how is our patient today?" I lean over pecking Christian's chiselled cheek before wiping the lipstick mark away with my thumb. Drawing me closer with an arm around my back I nestle into him, relishing every bit of intimacy I can get.

"I'm very impressed with Dr Davis' work. I don't see any residual bone fragments but he will need to take it easy for a few weeks." She gives him a look that says she knows he won't be heeding her words. "You may even need to go for some physiotherapy once we see what your movement is like."

Before he can brush it off I interject. "Mom, Christian is sending us away until this blows over," I make a sweeping motion with my hand, keeping my expression mild so I don't betray how negative I feel about the idea. "He's promised to look after himself and that you will take care of his wound seeing as I won't be here." I give my husband a pointed stare, repeating his promise to his mom so he can't wheedle out of it.

"What am I? Five?" He protests with a chuckle but I can tell that he's pleased that we love him enough to care and make a fuss.

Grace gives me a sympathetic glance before she stares him down, her matronly look not brooking an instant of opposition. "I'll do just that Ana, thank you for letting me know and you my dear son will do exactly as your wife and mother tells you. You will take it slow and you will make yourself available for regular visits from me to check on you. One cancelation and I'll be moving in with you."

Momentarily stunned he gapes at us, with a perplexed frown he concedes but clearly under duress. "Okay," he says carefully, darting his eyes between the two ferocious women that's unexpectedly replaced the doting ones he had moments ago.

Grace and I share a small wink in victory before she lets her strict act go, "Thank you honey." Her smile turns bright and satisfied, "Where will you be staying?"

Probably still in shock from his usually placid mother's speech he answers quietly, "I'll be at the Fairmont. Taylor knows the security there; we have a good working relationship with them."

"Okay, you should be discharged tomorrow. Make sure you take your pain meds if the arm bothers you." She leans over the bed to kiss his cheek.

The grateful, _thanks mom_, tugs at her heart as much as it does mine. _Don't cry, don't cry,_ I beg my disobedient eyes as they begin to leak without permission. To cover them up I slip off the bed to give Grace a goodbye hug, echoing Christian's gratitude, "Thank you."

She gives me a reassuring squeeze on both my shoulders then turns her bright gaze on the other light of her life, "Bye gorgeous boy! I'll see you when you get back. Have a good time and don't forget to call me okay?"

Chris looks to me, not sure if he's allowed to pledge a promise to make a call, it's adorable, drawing an encouraging smile from me. Banding his arms around Grace's neck he giggles, "Okay," he says, the casualness of his words not preparing us for his next statement. "I'll call you to tell you I love you. And grandad."

Three collective adult breaths suck the air from the room. The leak of my eyes turns to a full blown gush. Grace still has him in her arms, now flexing as she hugs him tighter. I watch through the blur as she closes her eyes to savour every second of their embrace. I can tell that she's transported back to a time when it was Christian in her arms, she must be feeling grateful that this little one will grow up with trust and care instead of abuse.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to read the emotion on Christian's face either, much the same as his mother's though his bears a sharp determination to keep it that way. Chris pulls away from Grace, a little unsure of himself. He's sensed the shift in emotion but assumes he's done something wrong. "Are you mad?" the little V on his forehead presses into his smooth skin.

Grace and I both stifle a sob, Christian the only one with the presence of mind to soothe him. "No champ, we're just very happy that you love grandma and grandpa."

The small frown doesn't leave his face, still confused about the disappearance of the happy mood. "I love you too daddy. And mommy and gran and pop." He adds, not wanting to leave anyone out. He grins; a mischievous glint is his eyes, "And Collins."

Just like that my little boy breaks the icy grip of melancholy that threatened to steal over us, leaving us laughing. His affection for Collins directly related to Chris' measure of all things cool.

Grace slips the chart back into the slot at the end on Christian's bed, getting ready to leave. "Mom, do you need to go? Can we have ten minutes or so?" Surreptitiously I point my chin in Chris' direction. If she can take him off our hands for a few minutes I can get briefed before going to Ray's.

"Of course Ana, any extra time with this little monkey will only be a pleasure." She turns to him, lightly pinching his chin, "Do you want another balloon honey?" A bounce and a jump later have him off the bed, racing her to the door.

The sudden silence is oppressive as is the ache in my soul. Wordlessly I plaster myself along Christian's form, suddenly needing to join our bodies. A sure, steady hand glides into my hair as he cups my head to catch my sad gaze. He closes his eyes before he kisses me, soft and tender enough to belie the hardness of his body. I melt into his endearment, wanting nothing more than to stay there, moulded to him forever.

Apart from a song, Night-time Sun by Marianne's Wish that's been haunting me all morning I also hear a ticking clock, the down-counting seconds speeding the valuable minutes away. I'm powerless to stop it, helpless to halt the passage of what little time I have left. I cannot rid myself of the fear that this could truly be a final time. _Please no!_ I beg, bargain and pray in my head, ready to give forego any vice to never see the truth of that future.

"What do you need baby? Tell me? I hate to see you like this." There's a touch of desperation in his voice that annoys me because he knows exactly what I want. When he feels my body stiffen, ready to throw the words at him like daggers he halts them on their way out. "Anything except that. Please baby, don't ask to stay."

My coiled body slackens in his hold, all the fight draining with what little hold I had on my wrung out emotions. "Just hold me," is all I can muster through the wet sop of tears.

"Hush now, just let it all out. I've got you." In an effort to get me closer he bands both arms around me. I hate myself for making him use the injured one but if this is the last time I'm in the circle of his embrace then I selfishly want the full experience.

Out of what I imagine must be desolation he starts to tell me about the ballistics, anything to take my mind off the foreboding place I'm wallowing in. "The ballistics confirmed the calibre of the rifle but only three of our suspects had probable opportunity. One of the former employees we had on our short list, Adam, has now been scrapped altogether. Taylor's confirmed that he's been in police custody for the past two days on an aggravated assault charge."

He kisses the top of my head, not minding the shudders wracking my shoulders because they're easing. "So progress you see. Already we're down to three."

I pull away slightly, fixing my red rimmed gaze to the striking ash of his, "And Linc? Taylor said he would check if he was a genuine enough hunter to be included."

Brushing wet strands of hair off my face, he pins them behind my ear. "Both Linc and David, the guy I fired for industrial espionage, are still on the list. We know they own .308 calibre rifles, both with track records of some serious deer hunting." He lodges my head back under his chin, like me he's eager for any and all contact between us.

"Jose is the only one who is looking iffy at the moment. Although he's here in Seattle at the moment, apparently he's snowed under with arrangements to leave for a Bahamas shoot today. It doesn't exclude him but considering the eyes we have on him it does seem unlikely. I can tell you this much, Taylor is right. This is someone that knows our MO. To slip away from the teams' watchful eyes this fucker must have known he was being watched."

The thought tightens the knot in my belly. "So one less suspect and three definite maybes?"

"Hey," he says tipping my chin, "don't look so despondent. We're getting there and with you safely out of the way I can concentrate on getting this sorted."

_That's what I'm afraid of but how do I tell him?_ "Promise me something?" I whisper against the sound of his beating heart in my ear.

Keen as he is to keep me happy he can't hold the weary tone from his voice. "What is it baby?"

After a deep breath I give him a euphemised version of what I feel, "Please be careful, I couldn't bare this being our last moment together."

His chuckle scoffs at me, once again underscoring the fact that he doesn't seem to value himself as we do. "I don't want you to worry about me."

_How can I not?_

Suddenly it becomes important to me to make him understand at least this. Breaking our contact I nail him with a fierce glare, "That's not an answer and believe it or not I'll be worrying about you as much as you'll be worrying about me. If you want me to respect that and keep myself out of harm's way you need to do the same for me. I. ." I cup his face with twin imploring hands. "I've spent too much time away from you. I will not lose you again. You will not do anything to jeopardise your safety and our future together." I can feel the wild dart of my eyes, imploring him.

Instead of the anger I expected from him he crushes his lips to mine, smashing into me with a violence that robs me of all thoughts on the matter. I guess my reaction pleases him, I savour the taste of love and desire in his insistent mouth.

With racing breaths we part, stunned at the strong current of our connection. "I want nothing more than to come back to you and Chris."

"You'd better." I look away, seeing the swirl of emotion in his eyes will break me if I don't. I need to get off the subject before doing something unreasonable - like chain myself to him. "How will we communicate?"

"Barney has transferred your old hard drive onto a new laptop that's security encrypted, we can Skype, e-mail, whatever you want."

I nod, not surprised about the measures he's gone to. "Thank you, I'd like that. What will you be doing while we're away?"

For a beat he looks at me as if the answer should be plain, "Anastasia, I thought we've spoken about this. Apart from staying at the Fairmont I'll be going about my business as usual. Considering what this person knows about us and our routines I don't want a change in our habits to tip him off on how close we are to finding him."

_Are we close to finding him? It doesn't feel like it to me._

Even though it's what I expected it still leaves me winded. If ever there was a time I've wanted to tie my husband up and hide him in a crate it's now. "Christian I…" It's so hard to admit needing help but I can't do this on my own, I'm too scared. I've got too much to lose. "I don't think I can deal with this by myself. Do you think Dr Flynn would see me, like on Skype or… I don't know…" Unsure and uneasy I drop the ball in his court.

Very quickly the shock on his face morphs into what looks like pride but given the circumstances I'm sure I'm reading him wrong. "Baby," he breathes. "Context aside I can't think of a better thing for you and yes, I'll set it up. I'll e-mail John today. I'm so happy that you're taking steps to ask for help."

There's a slight affronting sting to his words in the sense that he seems to think that I need this so much but at the same time I want to be happy and healthy and stable. I offer him a weak smile, "Thanks." _I think._

My eyes stretch remembering something, "What about Julie, I was supposed to start working with her this week?"

Now he's laughing at me, thoroughly amused. "You might recall baby that it's my company. Miss Logan will work around the situation. I suggest you Skype her as well." The good humoured sparkle in his eye is almost distracting enough to take my mind off our impending departure but not quite.

The fleeting break from or worries comes to a grinding halt as Taylor and Grace show up at the same time. Panic flares in my chest, I'm not nearly ready to go but I make my shaky legs stand to make room for Chris to say goodbye to Christian. Even that is a heart breaking sight, Chris curling his little arm around his daddy' neck. I stand by, cracking open as I hear Christian telling him to be a good boy and to listen to me. After a muffled promise he earns another kiss and cuddle from Christian, "Good boy."

Christian looks no less pained than I feel when I fling myself across his chest, the urge to never let go so great I fear Taylor might have to drag me away. "No tears Mrs Grey, I'll see you soon. Don't make me come out to Ray to spank you." His whispered words, though spoken to jest cracks with the strain of emotion it bears.

My half-hearted giggle is laced with anguish; to me it seems more like a grunt. "I love you Christian."

"And I you baby. Don't ever forget that."

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	34. Chapter 34

**I appreciate your reviews. Thank you.**

**Chapter 34**

The only thing that kept me from bawling my eyes out was Chris' sweet enthusiasm for the duration of the ride in Charlie Tango. Inside my heart was breaking, cracking open, splitting with what seemed like a terrifying finality.

Christian, of course, took care of every detail of our covert escape from Seattle. Once we landed we drove to Ray's in a normal sedan, no tell-tale luxury Audi for us this time. Though the windows were tinted it was one of those cars that were completely unremarkable, so every-day that it was easy to forget.

Taylor even took the precaution of driving straight into Ray's garage, making us wait until the roller door was firmly shut before letting us get out. All of this just on the off chance that someone was keeping an eye on us.

The sound of the garage door locking into place made me think of the slam of a prison gate; here we'll be captive until this mess is resolved. Every second away from Christian was a sentence passed on to me by this bastard thug that was chasing us. I hated him with a rawness that I swore would give me an ulcer.

xoxoxo

As I slip out of the car Ray greets us with a surprise at his side. It seems Taylor has taken Sawyer up on his offer to help out over the next few days or weeks or whatever. Fifty sure means business if he's assigned three security guards just for us and that doesn't include Ray who, in spite of being my dad, is no less qualified to keep us safe. Taylor will join Brandon once Collins and Carl arrive here this evening; the both of them assigned to Christian and on my insistence, will remain glued to his side.

Ray pulls me into a bear hug. Even in his embrace I can sense the weight of his concern. "Hi dad. Thanks for taking us on. I'm sorry that you're caught up in this."

"Oh Annie, don't be sorry sweetheart. Keeping you safe isn't a chore for me; it would kill me if anything happened to you. I wouldn't have it any other way." He tightens his hold reminding me of what it was like to be a little girl who lived for the love and approval of her father - albeit a step one. He was the only one I ever knew. "I'm glad Christian trusted me with the pair of you."

It takes every single ounce of my resolve not to give in to the emotional meltdown inching forward with a merciless surge. "Thanks," is the only strained word I manage to force past my constricted throat.

Ray shepherds us into his heavily modified home. It comes as no surprise that it already looks like security central in here. The dining room has been commandeered as headquarters, the table overrun with criss-crossing cables to monitors, hard drive towers and telephones. I feel like I've walked onto an FBI movie set.

There are cameras mounted in a corner of every room, even in the bathroom I note with no small twinge of dismay. Considering the window is only about 30 by 20 inches I can't help thinking that it may be a step too far, especially when all the windows and doors are also armed with motion sensors.

Taylor sees the perturbed look on my face but instead of annoyance his visage softens, understanding how overwhelming this is for me. "The cameras," he points to the offending corner, "we can change the angle to give you privacy." He shows me the bathroom on the tablet screen he's holding. Swiping across the controls displayed on the bottom I watch how the eye of the camera quietly swings away, readjusted to look up at the ceiling.

"Oh. Okay." I say, still feeling a lingering reluctance for the over-the-top intrusion. "Do I control it or ask the guys when I want to uhm… shower?" my cheeks grow a flaming red at the cringe-worthy idea.

He chuckles gently, "Ana, Christian would kill the boys if they even considered…" Too embarrassed to finish his sentence he blushes right along with me before he slips back into Robo-Taylor mode. "Just consider it a necessary precaution. If it will make you feel any better, take the tablet with you so you have control over the functions when you're in here."

"Thanks," I mumble, not quite able to shed my discomposure though his suggestion does go some way to appease me.

For our safety Taylor insists that Chris and I share a bedroom and Ray's had the foresight to replace the double bed with two singles. Truth be told I'm relieved. If I think about what this creep has already managed to do to my family, keeping a continued eye on Chis is an absolute necessity.

After my tour I go in search of my Chris and my dad. I find them in the kitchen riveted to the window like it's a TV. I follow their fascinated gazes and spot some work men in the backyard. "What are they doing?" I ask Ray as I watch the men lay some kind of matting on a section of the dirt.

"They're laying Sportflex." After a pause he continues, probably realising that he needs to clarify. "As you mostly won't be able to go out Christian thought it would be a good idea to install a jungle gym for Chris." The pair of them so intent on watching the guys that Ray can't tear his gaze away even as he explains.

"Okay," I say - still without a clue of what they're doing. "So what's Sportflex?"

Ray holds out a crisp bag to Chris who plunges an eager hand into its crinkling foil folds. "It's the stuff you see on a running track. Sort of squishy spongy surface that has great traction and a bit of bounce."

"Ah, I see. So Chris doesn't hurt himself if he falls?" Boy Christian really does think of everything but as always, even from a hospital bed, he leaves his overbearing stamp everywhere. I hope my dad doesn't feel like he's being bullied into this. "Are you okay with all of this dad?"

Chuckling he finally looks at me, "Are you kidding? This is great." He ruffles Chris' hair, "We'll have so much fun out there, it'll be better than fishing." He gives Chris a high five, their mutual excitement shared and palpable.

Oh well, if Chris is looking forward to it then I'm grateful. I love how Christian wants to make our stay less strenuous. "I'll leave you to it."

I wander to our bedroom to send Christian a text and to do some unpacking.

***Arrived safely but miss you so much. How are you feeling? Thank you for the jungle gym. Love you xoxo***

As I unzip my bag my phone chirps a reply.

***Hi baby, I miss you too. Thank you for going to Ray's, you've no idea how relieved I am that you're there. I hope Chis enjoys the jungle gym, Ray was very accommodating. Let's try to stick to e-mail as much as possible; our communication will be more secure that way. I'm feeling fine, just hate being stuck in this bed, especially without you… ;) What do you want to do regarding Chris missing preschool?***

I haven't given it much thought so I sit on the edge of the bed to ponder our options for a minute. Christian did mention the possibility of an au pair when we were heading back from Vegas but now our circumstances have changed. I pull up my shiny new laptop, the matte silver finish so smooth it begs for my touch.

A Post-it note on the screen announces my new, secure e-mail address and informs me that my previous account's mail has been forwarded to the new one. Reading between the lines I realise that my account was probably hacked, compliments of Mr Grey via his trusted computer geek Barney.

_Boy am I glad I don't have anything to hide!_ Christian still doesn't seem to understand boundaries or even the concept of simply asking instead of telling after the fact but hey, I knew what I was getting myself into. _Eyes wide open,_ I reminded my disgruntled self.

_From: Anastasia Grey Note the name_

_Subject: School and more_

_Date: 28 October 2016 11:00_

_To: Christian Grey Husband of mine_

_Thank you for the shiny new toy! I shall enjoy using it to tease you in your frail state. I too miss being in your bed, your arms, your mouth… Let that be motivation enough for you to keep yourself safe._

_I've given Chris' schooling some thought and for the time being I don't mind taking care of it. Not home schooling per se but I'll make sure that he does something educational every day. I can dig up some fun projects on the internet for us to do while we wait (impatiently) for this thing to blow over. As it is he only goes twice a week. _

_Any news since this morning? _

_I love you, I miss you, I want you._

_Your faithful and compliant wife who was obedient enough to come to her father's on her husband's request, accepted the fact that her husband hacked her e-mail account and is tolerating – though grudgingly - the fact that she's a prisoner in Montesano without the company of her beloved husband._

_Anastasia Grey_

I giggle gleefully, if I don't keep things happy and light between us I'll be consumed by a depression so deep I may never find my way out. Playful, teasing banter to look forward to will keep up my spirits when all I want to do is gnaw off my nails in apprehension.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Compliant wives_

_Date: 28 October 2016 11:34_

_To: Anastasia Grey Liking the sound of this very much_

_Baby, your mail made the ice chips in my mouth melt… Us frail, men folk should not be subjected to such suggestive banter, I'm sure the nurse that was fluffing my pillows wondered why I refused to move the laptop off my lap so she could change the sheets._

_There has been no further development in regards to our situation and before you ask, I will keep you up to date. As far as Chris is concerned I think that's a great idea, it will keep your mind occupied._

_I've spoken to John, he's awaiting your contact. His Skype details are: . You can arrange a time that suits._

_Julie Logan should come back to you by this weekend with some editorial changes. She'll be e-mailing you chapters that you can re write or revise as per your meetings. Her Skype name is GreyEnterprisesJLogan._

_I'll be discharging myself this afternoon once Taylor arrives back. I know this won't meet with your approval but we'll all be safer at the Fairmont and at least I can get on with work there. Rest assured my mother will be making twice daily calls on me. You will however be pleased to know that I won't be going into the office for the next two days; Andrea will be coming to me instead._

_I know you're worried and I love that you're strong enough to be brave. As always you never disappoint, I'm in awe of you baby. There are so many things I'd like to say but I'd rather say them in person. In the meantime I've made you a playlist to remind you of what we have and how much I miss and love you. See attached._

_Laters baby_

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc and husband - desperately in love with his wife._

_Dark Side – Kelly Clarkson_

_Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You – Glen Medeiros_

_Addicted to Love – Florence and The Machine_

_Chasing Cars – Snow Patrol_

_Give Us a Little Love – Fallulah_

_A Thousand years – Christina Perri_

_Right Here Waiting for You – Richard Marx_

_Not Strong enough – Apocalyptica_

Even the toughest waterproof mascara would have failed me right now, lucky I'm not wearing any. Unchecked the tears track down my cheeks in hot unwelcome rivers as my heart breaks a little more. Even the stabs of jealousy I felt about the nurse leaning over Christian's bed and Andrea in a hotel room with him seems far better than the ache that now consumes my being.

_Oh Christian._ I know some of the songs, enough to grasp the gist of what he's saying but listening to the actual words will be nothing short of cruel torture if I'm not allowed to be with him. Nothing about this separation feels right but my usually reliable spidey-sense is so drenched with fear that I don't think I can trust it.

If I had any sense at all I wouldn't hit that play button but I do, knowing full well that it will probably rip out my heart. In the flow of Kelly's lyrics I loose myself in the words my husband has selected just for me.

In spite of the void in my soul that his presence usually fills, for a brief moment, I allow the memories of the last few days to fill the empty hollows. Here like this, immersed in the echoes of his heart I can breathe because I feel so close to him. If I close my eyes I can almost feel the scorching trails of his touch on my ever indigent skin.

With a leap into my throat my heart's start shatters the dreamy illusion as the intrusive notes of a Skype call overrides the gentle flow of the precious lyrics. I scowl at my screen, annoyed at the interruption until I see my husband's name.

A quick fluff of my hair and a mad dash to wipe away the roll of my tears sees me ready to take the call.

"Hi!" I say as brightly as I can manage, backing my fake bravado with a full-beam smile.

"Baby." His tone is slightly berating as he shakes his head. My obvious, tear streaked face hurting him just as it does me.

Ashamed I hang my head, missing his earlier declaration of pride. "I'm sorry, the songs…"

His slate gaze softens as his mouth tugs into a gentle, indulgent smile. "I was wondering why you were taking so long to reply. Did you like them?"

Biting my lip I nod. Keeping my voice from cracking will be a requirement beyond my fragile emotional means right now.

His beautiful face crumples with concern, "I'm sorry baby, I don't want you to be sad I just…" Again the rate of my heart sets off, taken aback by how deeply he feels my pain.

With courage that can only be born from unconditional love I push aside my deflated heart to give him an honest smile. "I love them! Please don't think it hurt me, for a moment there I felt like I was with you." As I feel the surge of love I know the truth of it rushes to my face, plain for him to see.

I watch him raise his hand, the tips of his fingers touching the screen, wanting to connect with me. Not a second later mine joins his, my fingertips caressing the image of his.

Though I sense a fresh batch of tears brewing I swallow against the tide, not wanting Christian to worry about me any more than he already is but the battle is precarious, If I don't change the subject I'll break down into a blubbering mess.

When my short breaths are even again I aim to lighten the mood. "Discharging yourself is a very naughty thing to do Mr Grey. I will be spending my free time thinking of suitable punishments." I give him an exaggerated wink, my smile nothing short of suggestive.

Without missing a beat his mercurial self jumps into the moment with me. "Why Mrs Grey, you know I'll be only too happy to receive any punishment you see fit. Just so I know what I'm in for do you want to tell me what I can expect?"

His words turn my joke into a challenge, calling my bluff. I watch the tiny picture of me turn an unnatural shade of red but I'll be damned if I'll back down now. Vanity and competitiveness overriding the shy, sensible part of my brain. The gauntlet is down.

"Uhm, ah…," I stammer, "there may be some grovelling involved."

He laughs, throwing back his head, "Okay, grovelling. What else?" His twinkling eyes hold a good dose of teasing.

_Gah! He's not taking me seriously - obviously not, I may be too inhibited to do this. _My inner goddess shoves my prissy subconscious aside, taking charge with the textbook of slut clutched under her arm.

With a deep breath I channel my inner mistress and dive, head first without thinking too much. "We'll start with a classic I think - some torture." I tap my cheek with my finger feigning deep thought.

He nods, barely holding on to his flimsy pretence of earnestness.

Taking a leaf straight from the Christian Grey playbook I prepare to shock that smirk right of. "I'll tie your arms and legs to our bed and make you lick me until I come all over your face and when you're done, I'll make you do it again just so I can leave you hanging and aching for me."

The stretch of his eyes are extremely satisfying, even on the screen I can see the bob of his Adam's apple as it travels in a ripple along his throat.

_Ha! Who's laughing now?_

This time, when he speaks his voice is syrupy, low and gratifyingly raspy, "And where do you want me to lick you Anastasia?"

_Oh boy, he gives as good as he gets._ My name is like velvet on his lips, as pleasurable and sensual as a caress. His tone makes me brave and before I know it the word I never speak trips off my tongue without so much as a pang. "My pussy."

As his breath hisses through his teeth my hand flies to cover my dirty mouth, cursing my broken brain-to-mouth filter.

"Fuck Ana!" His image distorts with the sudden movements of his laptop, giving me only frame by frame views of him.

_Oh shit he's mad!_

Once the image stills his laser focus latches onto me. Mortified I peek through my splayed fingers that are helping to hide my blush of distress. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise baby; that was hot but jeez woman, are you trying to kill me?" He grins at my perplexing frown. "I uhm, have a little situation here…" The nudge of his head in the direction of his groin deepens my blush when understanding dawns. _There is nothing __**little**__ about that situation…_

I giggle, thoroughly pleased with myself. _Yay! Tormenting Mr Sexpertise is fun._

Fortunately or maybe unfortunately – I'm still deciding - my attack of shame and the subsequent fit of giggles have shattered the moment so we end up just chatting. Signing off a few minutes later has me feeling a whole lot lighter.

While I'm on Skype I invite Dr Flynn and Julie Logan to be added to my contacts and click to check my e-mail. May as well make use of my free time while Chris is being entertained by Ray.

My heart thuds when the first line spells Jose's name. My immobile fingers remain poised over my keyboard, too numb to move. Desire to do the right thing by him finally lends me the courage to open the message.

_From: Jose Rodriguez_

_Subject: Apologies_

_Date: 28 October 2016 09:28_

_To: Anastasia Grey_

_My dear Anastasia,_

_You've no need to apologize, it may come as a surprise to you but I know you better than you think. I knew you were lying from the moment you told me, no man in his right mind would ever let you go. _

_Always yours,_

_Jose_

_Huh?_ He knew? I read it again, just to be certain but my conclusion is no different. He's not angry, resentful? I sure as hell remember him being nothing short of enraged with me, so much so that there were times when I thought he might strike me. Of course I kept that titbit to myself, if Christian ever found out that he scared me...

What's more, according to Ray whose ear was bent backward by Jose senior's rants, Jose was devastated and not just a little bitter about the break-up. The other thing that strikes me is the fact that he let me go. Does that mean that he's not in his right mind? And what's with the _Always yours_? I was expecting a lot of things in this mail but not one of them showed up, the unpredictability of it all only intensifies my suspicions.

I forward the e-mail to Christian then head out to show the mail to Taylor. I find him on the phone, beckoning me with his free hand, "Here she is now Mr Grey. Yes sir, as soon as I can."

_Wow, Christian moves fast._

"Is that Jose's mail?" Taylor asks as he clears a space on the groaning table for the laptop.

"Yes and I don't mind telling you that it's strange. It's not what I expected at all."

"Be specific Ana, everything you can think of. Tell me." He scans the mail and taps away going into files that I wouldn't know how to find.

I give him the run down on all the things I feel is off about the letter. Moments later he's done then hands the slick silver case back to me, "Are you going to reply?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "Is Christian mad?"

He looks thoughtful for a tic, "I don't know Mrs Grey, you'll have to ask him."

Reluctantly I slink back to my room to check my mail again. I'm pretty sure I have an irate order waiting for me. True to form Christian's reply is curt and to the point.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: EX husbands_

_Date: 28 October 2016 14:02_

_To: Anastasia Grey_

_Anastasia_

_Under no circumstances will you be replying to Jose's mail. Taylor has it in hand. As far as I'm concerned this mail puts him very close to the top of our list._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc_

Irritated by his dictatorial tone and whatever he might be insinuating - because with him you just never know – I type out en equally blunt_ okay_. Just as I get ready to snap the cover shut a Skype message from Dr Flynn pops up.

**Mrs Grey, congratulations on your recent nuptials. I am, as always, at your service and have a time slot available tomorrow morning at 9:00am if that would suit. Please confirm.**

Though apprehensive I know seeing him will be good for me.

**Thank you Dr Flynn, tomorrow at 9:00 it is.**

The rest of the afternoon I spend mulling things over in my head, mentally preparing myself for my session with Flynn and thinking about Jose's strange mail while I play with Chris and catch up with my dad.

In honour of our first night Ray has pulled out all the stops and decided to cook. This is a new development for me as he's never shown an interest. I guess that's what living on your own will do for you, eventually take-out gets old.

Chris and I have been barred from the open plan kitchen but I can't help casting surreptitious glances at Ray. If his impressive knife skills are anything to go by it should make for a good meal. He chats to me while preparing our food as I wander around the lounge feeling surplus.

"Maybe while you're here we can brush up on your hand weapon skills, maybe some close hand-to-hand combat techniques?" He grins, finding my gaze across the room. "Do you remember Annie? How we used to wrestle here on the floor?" He points the business end of his chopping knife to a cleared space between the lounge and the dining room. A place where, I'm proud to say, I took my old man down a few times.

I beam at him as well as the memory. I love that he took the time to teach me things like that; it was his way to show how much he cared. For a man that has taciturn down to an art it was a valuable source of his love for me.

A movie strip of fond recollections reel across my mind, "Yes I remember! Only too well. Those fighting skills have come in handy on more than one occasion." Gratitude grips my heart in a tight fist – the love of his father's heart couldn't bare the truth if I told him of the many times his training saved me.

Chris' little ears pick up on the thing that he has an endless interest in, "Why did you fight with grandpa?"

Ray and I share an affectionate smile, "I didn't fight with grandpa honey but he taught me some fighting moves to help make me safe." I choose my reply carefully. I don't want to lie and I certainly don't want to shield him from the realities of this sometimes wicked world but at the same time if there's a need to learn to protect oneself then maybe he'll grasp that there are things to fear.

In complete disregard for my carefully formulated response he jumps up, plants his feet in an anchored combat stance then kicks out his leg in an amazing emulation of a kick-boxing move.

Ray laughs in approval, abandoning the knife and rounding the counter in a stride. "That's great champ. Now, do it again but this time, turn your body away from your opponent and always think about where your foot will land so you can plan the next move."

I watch them with mixed feelings, being able to protect yourself is a good thing to know but he's only four. Is he too young to learn a dangerous skill like that?

My train of thought is derailed by Taylor when he makes an appearance with Collins and Carl in tow. No need for introductions as they already met Ray at our wedding. After a quick greeting they follow Taylor to the make-shift high command that is Ray's dining room. Their chatter becomes background noise as I loose myself in the impromptu self-defence class Ray is giving Chris.

I smile when I hear Ray explaining the responsibility that comes with the ability to fight when all hell breaks loose behind me. The soft murmurs of the boys huddled around the table has erupted into full blown action stations as they all jump to a task with Taylor barking urgent instructions.

_What the hell?_

Taylor has a phone pressed to his ear, listening intently before relaying more information to the team. When he remembers that we're in the room he cups his hand over the mouthpiece, eyes bright with excitement. "Ana, we've identified the perp."

Quick as a flash Ray scoops Chris up to take him outside. Grateful I sink into a nearby couch, praying with all my heart that it's not Jose but in the light of the recent e-mail I suspect that that may be wishful thinking. I can't bear being responsible for this as well as all the other crap I've caused.

Suddenly shot through with nervous energy I bounce my legs, unable to keep still as I wait for Taylor to fill me in. When he ends the call I almost pounce on him, desperate for any shred of information.

"Mrs Grey, the police, when following up on our leads form the shooting found an unregistered property that belongs to David Blackmore. They raided the apartment this afternoon in search of Mr Blackmore for questioning and found a room full of evidence. Photos, newspaper clippings, logs of Mr Grey's movements. There is no doubt in the detective's mind that he's responsible but they've not managed to locate him."

I remember Christian mentioning this guy this morning. A former employee, the one he fired for industrial espionage. My eye catches the satellite map images on the two screens I can see from where I stand, our boys intent on tracking the perp wherever he may be. The relief I feel about Jose's innocence is completely overshadowed by the fact that knowing the perp's identity doesn't mean we'll catch him before he strikes again.

**Please be kind and remember to review**


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you for the reviews. I love hearing from you.**

**Chapter 35**

My stomach roils in uneasy protest. Come to think of it I've been feeling a little queasy all day; especially after the horrid hospital breakfast but I just put it down to stress. The tumbling sensation intensifies as my abdominal muscles clench and cramp sharply.

I drag in a lungful of air and hold it in; flooding my overrun system with a dose of oxygen I hope will settle my belly. "So what now?" I decide to take a seat, wincing at another spasm as I try to keep my mind on the thread of the conversation.

He cocks his head, a serious line burrowing into his forehead as he regards me, "We throw every resource we have into finding him. It will be easier now that we know who he is. With the extra men we can pile on the job we can make sure he doesn't slip through our fingers." A shadow crosses his face, together with his sour mouth and dull eyes offer a hint of his desperation to nail this bastard.

To some degree I think Taylor feels responsible, not for causing the problem but for the fact that Christian relies on him for his and our safety. I can see that he thinks he's failed us with every strike and day this torment has lasted.

He takes a step toward me, his denim blue gaze now troubled as he places a fatherly hand on my shoulder. "Mrs Grey, is something the matter?"

I blow my bangs off my hot face, "I'm fine, just a little nauseous. It's been a helluva week." I give him a weak smile, not very convincing. His hand is warm, too warm as it rests on my shoulder. I have to resist the urge to shrug it off. Usually I wouldn't mind the concerned gesture but my skin is hyper-sensitive, irritated. So much so I feel every little brush and slide of my clothes against it, it's horrible.

Another breath and the feeling starts to fade - thank goodness. "So we stay here and wait while Christian dangles himself in the public eye to try and lure him out?" I surprise myself with the venom in my lilt, almost spitting the words at an undeserving Taylor.

He straightens, assessing me in a way that's measuring, calculating. "That's the plan." His answer is unapologetic and straight to the point - no excuses.

It's bad enough that I feel another ripple move through my abs but worse than that is the blood that simply drains from my veins. I see it on the parts of my body that are exposed, like my hands, as they go a deathly shade of pale. I become aware of the tiny pinpricks of sweat breaking out on my upper lip on a shiver that's contrary to the flushed heat I'm doused in.

"Mrs Grey?" Taylor's voice sounds distant, like an echo. It draws a frown on my face as I try to make sense of the strangeness of it through the slowing sludge of my brain. "Mrs Grey?"

I stagger up, a clammy palm making contact with him long enough to help me propel myself forward - my need to get to the toilet overriding all others. The first heave is powerful but not enough to produce what my body wants to expel. At least it buys me time to drag myself closer the bathroom. The next motion delivers a mouthful of puke that I barely contain until the following one expels that and the next batch into the toilet bowl that I've flung myself onto – just in time.

Eyes streaming, heart hammering I lurch and shudder, helpless against the violent force that's driving my body to eject my belly's contents and then some. Even when I'm bone dry, the retching producing nothing, the surge remains relentless. It leaves me utterly spent and with a throat so raw I fear it may be bleeding.

When the awful dry wracking sounds finally subside I slump against the bath, exhausted and dazed. _What the Hell?_ My neck is barely strong enough to move my head in the direction of the tentative knock on the door pane.

"Annie, you okay?" Ray shuffles in, carefully. I don't blame him, it smells like death in here and I'm sure I look it.

I manage to shake my head but my tongue is plastered to the sandpapery roof of my mouth, well stuck. With a little more confidence he steps inside, quickly pressing the flush button before he runs a wash cloth under the tap. He squats in front of me and wipes it along the seam of my mouth. "Do you want some water?"

Again I nod, too scared to move in case another wave quakes through me. He gives the cloth another rinse and leaves me with it to hold to my fevered brow. I've never experienced anything like this, so violent. Even retching from alcohol isn't this severe. I hope I'm not coming down with something. I would hate to pass this on to anyone.

Ray intrudes on my thoughts with a glass of water. Gently he presses it to my lips and I take a tiny sip, swirling it around before swallowing it gratefully. "I'll leave it here, don't drink it too fast. Sips only."

"Thanks," I croak. "Chris?"

Ray eyes light up, "He's with Collins," indulgence tugs his mouth into a friendly curve. "They're inspecting the jungle gym."

_Oh good._ If I could I would smile, but I'm too weak. I'm glad he's not around to see me like this.

"Do you need help getting up?"

I look up at him, fumbling through my options. More than anything I want to rid my mouth of the disgusting sourness then lay my hot cheeks on the cold tiles. I feel too shaky to move yet. "I just want to sit here for a minute if that's okay?"

"Sure honey, I'll keep your dinner in case you want it later. We'll eat in ten, go lie down and let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks dad," I mumble, thankful that he's here to take care of Chris and me if I need it.

He gives me a careful, timid look, "You sure you want me to go?"

In spite of the fact that he's my dad I still feel self-conscious; this is too unpleasant to share, "I'm sure dad." I try to give him a reassuring smile but end up snarling at him. With a nod and a turn he exits the bathroom leaving me to slide my length along the cool ceramic squares.

This is how I spend most of my night. Every time I think it's over I get up, wash my face and try to get some sleep but shortly after my stomach starts it's see-saw thing forcing another mad dash to the bathroom. I've not eaten anything so the heaves are dry but no less violent, sapping every ounce of my energy.

Twice I've managed to speak to Christian who is going out of his mind worrying about me but try as I might I'm too drained to give him the reassurance he needs. Both times I've had to end the calls so I could stick my head back in the toilet.

The hot and cold shivers bring on a clammy sheen of sweat. It makes me feel grimy enough to want to rip off my over sensitive skin. If I'm not bent over the bowl I lie on the tiles, dozing and dreaming of twisted things in an almost delirious state.

When I wake it's with a start, my swollen eyes looking into a pair of shoes. "Mrs Grey, can I help you up? The doctor is here to see you."

_Doctor?_

My lids flutter against the intrusion of light but it's the bathroom's not the day's. Sawyer is standing over me. "What time is it?"

"It's 6:00am ma'am, you've been here all night."

I push myself off the floor, my cheek peeling away from the tile it's been plastered to. Holding my position I wait for the wave and I'm relieved when it doesn't come. Without Sawyer's help I don't think I would have made it to my room on my own. My muscles are all quivering, a useless jellied mass and I'm almost certain that something died in my mouth.

"Where's Chris?" the sight of his empty bed sends a flicker of panic through my vacuous, nervous stomach.

"He's with Ray ma'am. He wasn't having a good night so Ray pitched him a one man tent at the end of his bed and he slept there."

_Poor baby,_ I think. I hate that I wasn't there to soothe him but sleeping in a tent, albeit inside the house, would be akin to Christmas. "Thanks Luke." Maybe I'm just feeling sorry for myself but along with the exhaustion I'm suddenly very tearful.

His indulgent, sympathetic smile is comforting. It tells me there's so much more to him than what meets the eye. He seems sensitive, unlike what his burley physique and rough career choice suggests. "I'll get the Doc."

I cringe a little at the state I'm in, a smelly crumpled mess. No doubt this is some specialist doctor with a month long waiting list that Christian managed to bribe and cajole into this unearthly, early morning visit.

After a slight knock a casually dressed woman, somewhere in her mid-fifties, smiles at me around the corner of the door. I smile back because she seems friendly but mostly because she is a she. I seriously doubt that we'll ever see another male doctor as long as Christian is around arranging the appointments.

"Hi, please come in." My voice still sounds raspy from the rawness of my throat but I've not had another ripple roll through my belly so that's got to be a good thing.

"Mrs Grey, good to meet you. I'm Dr Ellie Blair." She shuts the door behind her and walks to my bedside holding her vintage style doctor's case.

"Dr Blair, thank you for coming and it's Ana, please."

"Okay. Ana." Her warm smile never leaves as she gingerly sits on the edge of my bed. "Let's see what we've got here." She reaches over me, her fingers gently feeling the glands along my jaw line. "Is there any chance you can be pregnant?"

"Uhm, no. I have and IUD."

She checks my pulse, scanning her watch while she talks. "Christian said that you've been throwing up, do you have any pain? Any fever?"

By the way she says his name it's clear that she knows him but I shove my curiosity aside, giving her a précis of my unfortunate bathroom antics. "I started feeling a little queasy around midday but I put it down to stress." My mouth turns a rueful line, "We've been through a tough few weeks."

She nods in understanding but waits for me to continue as she palpates my tummy. "Then, in the late afternoon, it came on suddenly and violently. One moment I was fine, the next I was sweating and cramping and shivering. I made a dash for the bathroom and I've been there ever since."

I catch her sympathetic grimace, "And now? How are you feeling?"

I run through my symptoms, taking stock of what I feel. "Okay I guess. I don't feel like retching my lungs out so that's good right?" I offer her a grin to punctuate my little joke. "I'm very shaky, exhausted actually. It feels like my limbs are weighed down, heavy - like lead."

In a surprisingly gentle, motherly gesture she pulls the covers over me then rests her hands in her lap. "That's normal, you've not eaten anything, your blood sugar must be very low but I think the worst is over. Food poisoning's a bitch but if you get rid of it the way you did it's usually over as quickly as it started." She winks, the swearword so contrary to her professional manner. "Sometimes there can be bacterial growth that will make you really ill but then you wouldn't be feeling any better now."

"Food poisoning?" I'm stunned, I was certain it was some killer stomach bug. There were moments I thought I was dying. I never knew it could be this brutal. _Damn hospital food!_ "Am I going to need any medication?"

"I'd like you to take some electrolytes for the dehydration and try to eat something, usually dry biscuits or toast is good to start with. Take a bite and wait to see how you tolerate it and please, rest." She pats my covered leg, as if to placate me. "Monitor yourself carefully. If the cramps, fever or nausea return call me immediately."

She retrieves a card from her doctor's bag and places it on the night stand. "Okay. Thank you." I feel bad that she's come all this way for a five minute consult. "I know my husband can be a little demanding. I'm sorry for dragging you out here, especially at this hour." My first blush in hours brings a light shading of colour to my cheeks; who knows what Christian had to do to get her here.

She laughs. A real, nice throaty laugh. "You should have known him as a teenager."

_Oh, she does know him._

Before I can ask she elaborates, "I studied with Grace, we were BFF's," she smiles at her witticism, using a term that's almost exclusively reserved for teenage girls. "I was a shoulder to cry on during his rebellious teenage years." She shrugs casually, as if the support was nothing much.

_Ah._ Understanding dawns, she probably knows more about him that I do. I nod, seeing how Grace probably needed an empathetic ear. I know enough to know that he was very difficult until bitch-troll got a hold of him. Thinking of Elena and the things that he's been through, including me and my recklessness, always leaves me with a nagging urge to fix him.

Since we've been back together, which in reality, has only been a stupidly short time, he's grown so much. I'm in constant awe of the way he's stepped into his role as a father and husband. I owe him so much; it makes me want to lay my world at his feet, make up for all the crap he never deserved.

Biting my lip I mull over the plan in my head as I regard the convenient doctor before me. "Dr Blair, can I ask you a favour?" It may be a little unconventional but I'm sure she'll be able to help me.

By the time she leaves we've already sent a desperately knocking Sawyer away in his twin attempts to get an update for my super worried husband. Alone and feeling better after a few sips of salty-sweet electrolyte solution I reach for my phone. Twelve missed calls from Christian, all within the last hour, screams at just how eager he is for news. I call him back, keen to end his overzealous concern.

After only half a ring he answers anxiously, obviously waiting with the phone in his hand. "Fuck baby, tell me you're okay!" If I wasn't, his barking command would make it so by the sheer force of his will.

"Hey, I'm fine, better than my shot husband." I pitch it just so, wanting to make it clear that I am just as worried about him.

He scoffs at me with a snort, "What's the matter? What did Ellie say?"

I sigh, he still doesn't get it. "Thank you for sending her by the way. She's nice. She says I have food poisoning but apparently the worst is already over."

I hear him let out an almighty breath, like he's been holding it for hours. "It's over? You're feeling better?"

"I'm drained but since waking up this morning I've not been sick."

"I'm glad; you scared the hell out of me." This excessive apprehension is going to send him to an early grave but I'm relieved to note the strain seeping from his voice. "I'll leave you to rest now. I just wanted to hear your voice. I love you baby."

It's impossible to miss the reluctance in his tone but as always he's putting my needs ahead of his own. "Hey, I haven't had my fill of you yet, I've missed you. Please talk to me for a little while longer." To get my way I go into full pouty mode, taking full advantage of his weakness for me.

I can hear the smile in his words when he agrees - readily, "Okay, but only for a short while, you need to rest baby. What would you like to talk about Mrs Grey?"

"You, Mr Grey." I reply unequivocally. "How are you feeling? Where are you?"

He gives me a contended sigh, "I feel good baby; I'm at the Fairmont - with Taylor and Brandon. Things will be kicking into high gear from now; I can't wait to nail this fucker." Just like that his happy baritone turns into a bark, the anger palpable even over the phone.

I cringe a little, always wilting under the weight of his anger even if it's not directed at me. "Any new developments?" I ask with as much conviction as I can muster. I have a right to know.

This time his sigh is one of reluctance, spawning a panicky tightness in my belly. He's been so open with me, if he's keen to hide something it must really be bad. "Yes," he grits though a clenched jaw but leaves it at that.

I let the silence grow between us, willing him to open up to me. When he finally relents I gulp a relieved breath, his promise to me obviously winning out. "The bastard is stir fucking crazy." I can picture him running his free hand through his perpetually dishevelled hair. "Jeez baby. The photos, I can't believe…" the crack in his voice is alarming, the despairing note even more so.

He takes a moment to compose himself, breathing deeply. "He managed to get so close to us." The quiet delivery speaks volumes, he's horrified.

_Close to us or close to me and Chris?_ I wonder as my heart thuds into my stomach. _Do I even want to know?_

I decide to change direction. Right now I don't have the energy to delve into some sickos mind, especially how it pertains to my precious family. "How did he know about your lifestyle?"

"I don't know. I guess, much as I'd like to trust the NDA's, they're not iron clad." I get a sense that he's mentally paging through his little black book, looking for possible leaks as the familiar jabs of jealousy are like needles into my heart. I can't help wondering what he feels when he thinks about that long list of beautiful, compliant subs.

After a beat or two he continues. "The scene relies heavily on trust but it's not unfeasible that I was seen at a club, especially in the early days, and a rumour was started."

_Ah, the early days before he had a contractual sub at his beck and call. _The thought does nothing to put my green-eyed monster back in her box. This guy unearthed more than a rumour though. He got hold of the picture and the stupid contact but I bite my tongue, what good would stating the obvious do?

"Did the police find any evidence that pointed to your lifestyle?" Exposure is something he's always been very careful to avoid. Could all that come crashing down around him now? This time the shiver I feel is not from fever but from dread.

"Yes and no," he states carefully, "our guy on the scene did." _What does that mean? _I think with an irritable frown before realization comes barrelling through my naiveté.

"You've bribed a cop?" I smack the heel of my hand against my forehead in dismay. _Could bribery and corruption be added to a dark dose of kink? Another thing that could seriously tarnish his golden boy status?_

"No! Fuck no!" he sounds affronted but it lacks the complete conviction it should carry. Instantly I know there's a measure of truth to my guess. I don't jump in with an apology, not ready to believe that he wouldn't go that far. Waiting I feel the tension between us build.

He senses my hesitation; his clever CEO mind calculating what he needs to tell me then spins the crap out of it. "He's a friend. Sympathetic to my situation."

_Ah, a fellow kinky fucker, that's almost as bad - planting a guy on a raid for inside information even if he doesn't get paid._

I don't press the issue though I'm unhappy with his shady ethics in this regard. "What did he find?" Again I feel the apprehensive clench as I wait for his reply.

"He found a folder." He releases a resigned sigh as he gears up for his confession. "It had a copy of the photo from the blog and notes from his visit to the club."

_Shit!_ If we needed any confirmation we have it now.

"Did he manage to get any information from the club?" My heart is beating a sprint, heavy and high in my tight chest.

"No." His answer is short, too short. There's something he's still not telling me. To show him that I know, I wait, filling the airwaves between us with a silence that's pregnant with my quiet accusation.

Eventually I get another dragged out, longsuffering sigh – like a teenager exasperated with an overbearing parent - telling me how unreasonable he thinks I'm being. "Our guy managed to procure the folder for us."

The spin and the euphemisms he's using - all designed to soften the blows of his lawlessness – underestimates my intelligence. I can read between the lines as well as the next person. _The insider cop stole the folder from the scene for Christian._

I'm suddenly spitting mad, the risk he's taking by trusting someone who could use the information against him at any time and breaking the law by doing so has me properly riled. "You are not above the law Christian. I don't like you taking risks like that with our future, you may have a lot to lose but so do we!" I hiss the words at him through gritted teeth, even narrowing eyes that he can't possibly see.

"I don't know what you expec…" He makes a start on his defence but then drops it, probably scrubbing a hand over his face or shaking his head to clear it. "Fuck!" he grinds out, annoyed.

I hold my breath, unsure where his mood is taking us when he floors me completely by agreeing with me. "You're right, I'm sorry."

_He is?_

"This whole thing, it's pushed me into an impossible corner. It's not my proudest moment and I'm less than happy sharing it with you." His pouty, embarrassed tone stirs my heart to forgive without a second thought.

"Oh Christian. What are we going to do with you?" I tease, stealing a line he's used on me a thousand times while a small smile plays on my lips.

He coughs to hide his scoffing snort but the uncomfortable tension is broken. I can't help being pleased that we can talk without things escalating into a full scale war. _Progress!_

But then my thoughts are yanked back to their plan, its weight unshifting and at the forefront of my mind. "When are you going back to the office?" Every day he delays his ordinary routine is an extra day the cops have to find this sleaze ball without Christian exposing himself to further danger.

By another tired sigh I guess I'm being very trying today but he answers me nonetheless. "On Monday baby." It's abundantly clear that he knows I won't like the answer but I know it's pointless to try and dissuade him.

_Cranky, stubborn man!_

"I hate that you're putting yourself out there." My voice is low, almost a whisper. The full force of my fears bearing down on me with a merciless and shocking assault.

"I know baby. Better me than the two of you."

_Holy, fucking shit!_ It's a slap in the face and a punch in the gut, if I were a man it would be a kick in the nuts as well. Hot, frustrated tears spill an angry deluge of salty heartache over my cheeks; a vice-grip has a hold of my heart as it bucks in my chest. "Christian!" I admonish him on a cry, touched and furious at his selflessness. "When will you understand how valuable you are to us?"

There's so much more I want to say, I feel like shaking him, drumming my fists against his chest, howling at the moon – anything to get him to understand. I feel irrational in my angered desperation to make him see sense.

A reply seems unlikely, his silence a sure sign that he doesn't share my view so I launch a full scale attack. "Under the greatest duress I let you cart us off to my dad's because you worry about our safety but somehow you think we shouldn't worry about yours? Let me spell it out for you - you pigheaded man - in clear and unobstructed words. I. Am. Terrified! For you, for us, for our future, just like you are! How would you feel if I flew myself out to Seattle today, defying everything you've asked me to do and glued myself to your side, putting myself in direct danger?" I'm shaking I'm so mad, flushed hot with rage and irritation.

"Don't even think about it, it would kill me if something happened to you. Do you understand? Don't think I won't let Sawyer lock you up. Hear me now Anastasia! I. Will. Fucking. Loose. It!"

I'm not going to do anything stupid but I got what I needed, he is crazy mad. I take a steadying breath, ready to deliver my victorious line with measured precision, "My point exactly."

The sharp suck of air I hear is what I was hoping for. I wish I could see his face as he works his single-minded head around this little bite of information. "That's how you feel?" I can't believe how stunned he sounds.

_Boy he can be dumb sometimes._

"Of course Christian, murderous to say the least! I keep telling you but you just don't seem to hear me." The irony of this makes a nasty appearance in my head. He never managed to pierce through my self-doubt no matter how often he told me and look where it got us. Will I be able to penetrate his feelings of worthlessness with words? Will my actions ever be enough? Will whatever I do now always be up against the one big thing I did that told him otherwise? _Fuck!_

His voice turns low, slow, "That makes me so happy baby. Say it again."

My heart misses at least two beats, I can hear the joy but the undercurrent is pure seduction, he's turned on. Me worrying about him blows his mind. Without a moment's hesitation I give him what he craves, praying that he'll hold on to it. "I would die without you too." It's the utter truth; I only hope he gets it.

He hisses through his teeth as the sexual tension sparks into life between us, sizzling, jolting like lightning.

"Wow," I breathe, taken aback.

He chuckles, wickedly loving what we do to each other. "You are feeling better Mrs Grey. I am pleased."

There's no mistaking the little bit of Dom bleeding through his husky baritone, maybe punishment for yesterday when I got him all hot and bothered. Delicious shivers ride my body just thinking about how pleased he is. I always get a reward if he's pleased….

"Mrs Grey, much as I'd like to try and read your dirty thoughts the thing that would please me most right now is you resting. Now be a good girl and do as you're told."

_I knew he would leave me hanging!_ I growl and he laughs, enjoying my frustration before things turn serious again. "Baby, Barney will be there later this morning; he needs to help the guys with some system glitches. He'll be bringing you our mail from Escala and some more things for you and Chris. Please let one of the guys go through it before you open anything."

I roll my eyes. _Mail? Really?_ But I don't argue, "Okay. Thanks," I mumble but I'm still waiting for confirmation from him, he needs to grasp how important he is to me, to us. "Can I just ask, are we clear on how much I love you now?"

I appreciate his tone turning sober, "Fair point, well made as ever Mrs Grey. I get it."

"I hope so Christian." I close my eyes pushing my fingers along my forehead, suddenly aware of every ounce of my exhaustion.

"Did you manage to speak to Flynn?" wisely he changes the subject.

"Oh shit! Yes. We're supposed to Skype at 9:00!" I squeak, butterflies bothering my belly at the thought of laying myself bare.

"Cancel if you're not up to it."

I don't know if I'm up to it but I can't postpone it. More and more I see how much I need to sort out my own head. If that's what stands between me and a happy future with Christian then it will be worth every excruciating delve into my messed-up psyche.

After a reluctant goodbye, I flop back onto my bed. Keeping up with the pace of Christian's mercurial mood swings is a job all on its own.

My rumbling tummy gets me up and into Ray's pantry. Mindful of my stomach I choose some plain crackers and eat a single one. I then head for a hot shower and a tooth brushing to end all tooth brushings. I feel a million times better when I join Ray and Chris in the kitchen. My little boy is delighted to see me as he jumps into my arms, a look of relief marring his innocent face. He's already learnt to worry and the thought of that is an unwelcome burden on my mommy shoulders.

I get the lowdown on the tent sleeping and the jungle gym as he eats his breakfast with gusto. Ray and I smile at each other, just happy to share in his refreshing optimism. When Chris goes to brush his teeth I ask Ray for an hour's privacy to Skype with Flynn.

By 8:00am I hear the familiar tech's voice in the lounge as he greets the rest of the team. We all go out to meet him and Collins makes introductions all around. "Hi Barney, good to see you again."

I remember him being painfully shy but friendly. He can barely make eye contact with me before he answers, staring at the floor. "Mrs Grey." He nods. "Congratulations on your wedding an all."

I try to give him a reassuring smile but he can't look at me without blushing. "Thank you Barney." It's obvious why he likes computers.

"Ah, uhm. Here is your mail Mrs Grey." He puts it down on the edge of the table, about the only spot that's not occupied with wires and computers.

"Thanks," I say a little absentmindedly as I wonder what could be in the long white box.

Before I can give it my full attention Chris pulls on my T-shirt. "Mommy can I watch cartoons please? Please?" He holds his hands together as if in prayer, those baby-blues blinking and persuasive.

"Sure baby but just for an hour." He claps his hands and jumps on the couch while I fiddle with Ray's collection of remote controls.

Collins' voice breaks through my frantic button pressing as I try to figure out which one belongs to the TV. "Mrs Grey, we're under strict instructions to check your mail before you open it. Can I do that now?"

"Uh-huh," I agree, too distracted to concentrate on what he's saying.

Just as I sort the channel for Chris I become aware of a sudden hush behind me, the guys all sucking in a collective breath.

"Holy goat fucker!" Barney's incredulous exclamation has me clamping my hand over my mouth as I try to stifle a hysterical giggle. He may know everything there is to know about computers but cool expletives is not his forte. I pivot around, curious to see what has them so quiet and the usually mute Barney expressing himself in such a colourful manner.

The mirth in my eyes and the smile on my lips drop away as if it was slapped off. Collins, Carl and Barney all have their shocked gazes glued to the open white box. From where I stand I can see about a dozen red roses, all with long stems but they're completely dead. Their usual saturated colour replaced with dull, dried, papery petals that only just bear a hint of the glorious jewel shade they once were.

Collins looks to me and then to the card in his hand. His hesitation couldn't be any clearer. "What does it say?" My voice holds a nervous quiver.

"Mrs Grey I…" If I wasn't so hell bent on being included I might have recognised the horror on his face, I might have reconsidered if it was worth me knowing.

"What. Does. It. Say?" I bark, gearing up for a fight.

Wordlessly he hands me the card, wincing as I take it from between his scissored fingers.

I should have realized that my trembling fingers already knew what was coming but my stubborn brain insisted I look. With glazed eyes I scan the neatly typed words that wring every measure of oxygen from my lungs.

_Mrs Grey,_

_My condolences on the death of your husband._

_X_

_**Please be kind and review x**_


	36. Chapter 36

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**Chapter 36**

It was definitely the shock but also the fact that I was still running on empty. The room blurred and tilted as I went down, dropping like a sack of potatoes. I know I wasn't out for long because I was still in a heap on the lounge floor with a circle of concerned faces staring down at me when my eyes decided to open.

Barney and Carl helped me up, bracing me with their arms around my back as they lifted me onto the sofa. "Mrs Grey, do we need to get the doc again?" Carl looked as shaken as I felt.

Before I could answer I saw Chris being held by Collins, his bug eyes glossy with tears and his face pinched with fear. "See she's fine buddy, mommy is okay." He was trying his best to comfort him but those tears, I could see, were imminent. Like only a mother can, I put the recent drama aside and focussed on my boy, holding out my arms to him.

Like a shot he wriggled out of Collins' hold and scrambled onto my lap, throwing his arms around me as he sobbed into my hair. "It's okay honey, really I'm fine. Mommy should have eaten something. I'm so sorry baby." My hug tightened around him as I willed him to feel the security of his little world that really didn't exist right now.

_I hate, hate, hate what this is doing to us._ Anger and panic comingled with the blood in my veins brewing a cocktail that kept me edgy and now skirting close to a breakdown. The constant feeling of helplessness only made it worse.

Carl still stood before me, waiting for an answer while I could hear Collins on the phone behind me, probably with Taylor. "No." My lilt reflected my irritation. "I'm fine." He looked like he wanted to say something but snapped his mouth shut on the glare I gave him. "Stop worrying about me and find **him**." I hissed, dismissing him as I jutted my chin to their work station.

I know that they didn't deserve my impatience but I felt very little goodwill right now. He pivoted on his heel, joining his team, the dejected slump of his shoulders one I guiltily knew I put there.

For a brief moment the room was calm. I was fussing over Chris, doing my best to soothe him while Collins was debriefing Taylor on our latest saga - mercifully in low, mumbling tones. Carl and Brandon had their heads together, sharing a screen for whatever they were doing. I assumed that Sawyer was done with his shift and left for some shuteye and Ray, I knew, was on a quick grocery run.

I heard Collins blow out a long, shaky breath and then, even with the distance between us and the fact that he was on the phone I heard Christian's voice yell down the line at him. Fifty was beside himself, like raging bull mad.

As quick as I could I scooted out of the lounge and into the backyard, the last thing Chris needed right now was to hear his daddy blow his top. I could understand why Christian was angry, he did tell them to go through the mail before they passed it on but the box was a bit of a grey area, not quite mail and I think we all thought that it was probably a gift that Christian sent to me via Barney. No one could foresee the twisted thing that actually happened. I didn't blame Collins but boy; I wish I had heeded his warning.

I gave Chris a smile as he dangled himself from his legs on a monkey bar but my mind wasn't with him. I was too busy figuring out what the flowers represented. There was no way they were dried, they were definitely allowed to shrivel up and die before they were sent and they weren't waiting at Escala when we came back from Vegas. My guess was that they probably arrived yesterday. It would be easy enough to check when the doorman signed for the delivery.

Was it supposed to be for the shot that the bastard took, getting ahead of himself with his success or was it to be a warning of things to come? What sort of business sent dead flowers anyway? I would hate to be that florist once Christian decided what swift and crushing measure he would wreak against them.

As if he knew I was thinking about him my caller ID flashed his name as it tinkled the instrumental version of _Somebody_; the song he sang to me on our wedding day and his exclusive ringtone. I felt apprehension bubble in my gut – desperate to hear his reassuring voice but in no state to be yelled at. I guess he heard the crack in my voice that betrayed the strain I was under when I whispered my tentative _hi._

"You're upset. Baby, I'm sorry." Pain and sincerity shone through his empathetic statement but I wanted so much more. I desperately needed to touch him, physical contact the only thing that could offer me the reassurance I needed right now. There was nothing like the threat of losing someone to make you want to cling to them with all of your might. The overwhelming urge ripped a sob from my throat even though I fought to force it down.

"Fuck!" His annoyance didn't help matters, his spitting words only turning down the volume of my gushing tears. Much as I hated adding to his overfull plate my breaking point seemed to loom ahead of me with an inevitability that made me feel utterly despondent. Chris' presence was the only thing that held back the impending melt down. I turned my face away from my playing son so he couldn't see the state I was in.

In the background I heard Taylor's voice before Christian interrupted my silent cry, "Will you hold on a minute baby?" I sat there, legs drawn up to my chest feeling like a nutcase for resenting Taylor for taking even the merest moment of our time together.

Dragging in regular lungsful of air I tried to steady my warring emotions along with my shaky hands. The paleness of my trembling hands reminded me I still had to eat something. I brushed away the wet lines on my cheeks then sent Chris a comforting wave as he whooped coming down the slide.

"I'm back, all yours baby." Through the fog of my misery I registered that his anger was bound to frustration. Frustration with our situation rather than with me but the anxiety I heard in the question that followed clawed at my conscience. It didn't allow me to feel any better about his earlier outburst. "Please tell me you're coping and you're not thinking about running?"

Even if I managed to think it – which I didn't – I could never. My lesson, at least that one, was well and truly learnt. "No," I said, backing it with every ounce of conviction I felt. "I'm not going anywhere but I hate us being apart, if this runs its course and something happened…" I worked on a dry swallow before putting the unthinkable out there, "then this time apart is precious time wasted." I felt ashamed not being strong enough to spell it out but by the hiss of air he sucked through his teeth I knew he understood the implication.

"Please, please don't think like that. It tears me apart to hear you like this. I promised you that this will all be over soon and I'm not about to break that promise. Nothing - hear me baby - NOTHING is going to happen to you or to Chris or to me. Do you understand?" his tone is so soft, so gentle but unmistakably beseeching, it strangled my heart with how much I wanted to believe him.

It also made me angry, so fucking mad, "Stop saying that! How can you possibly know? How Christian? Much as you'd like it to be your will alone is not enough!"

From my tirade he only took offense to my anger, "Anastasia! Don't you dare take that tone with me! We're not going to spend our time arguing, you're just going to have to trust me." Even though he was admonishing his measured baritone reined me in, helped me hold on to the pieces of myself that were threatening to fall apart.

Still, shock winded me, maybe because I knew that he was right but between that and the fear staining my world it was hard for me to see a way out of this mess. The words I wanted to say sat, choking me while I wondered how trusting him was going to help us.

He let out a sigh, one that left me with little doubt that his patience was perilously close to failing but he made himself try one more time. "Please Anastasia."

My bottom lip was raw, bearing the brunt of my indecision as I chewed it in vain hope that it might bring me some direction but concern for Christian's sanity was the thing that sharpened my focus enough to give him what he needed. "Okay." I let out my own sigh, feeling little assurance and all but defeated.

Much as I craved some sort of guarantee it wasn't worth an argument especially if our days were numbered. With my heart in a chokehold of terror I dug for inner strength I didn't know I had and forced myself to be in the moment with him. By his silence I knew he was deliberating with himself to accept my answer in spite of the obvious faith it lacked.

Mercifully he let it go, but his acquiescence was laced with scepticism in our truce. "Okay."

I hated that we couldn't get through a normal conversation without arguing yet I was going in for more, unable to help myself. Knowing what was going on afforded me a tiny bit of control over a situation that was otherwise dishearteningly unpredictable. "What has Taylor found out about the flowers?"

"Is this really what you want to talk about right now? Don't you think you've been through enough crap for one day?" The holes in his patience were beginning to show but before I could insist he fed me the facts in a curt, gritting tone. "The flowers were delivered yesterday but judging by the state they're in, sending them was planned in advance. Taylor and I agree that it was meant to arrive on the back of the shooting. The police will question the florist owner today; we'll see where that takes us."

"Thank you," I whispered, breathing a little easier knowing that the event it was linked to was over and, more importantly, unsuccessful.

"How are you feeling?" I asked; my voice still holding a hesitant wobble.

"Fine baby, just..." He swallowed his confession, deciding against sharing he changed his words into something he must've felt was more suitable. "I miss you, I miss our son." I could hear every bit of the restless fatigue in his voice. I could only sympathise, I felt the same.

"He's right here, why don't you talk to him?" I motioned Chis over, bright smile in place. He was the one thing I knew could cheer us out of our funk.

"I'd love to baby, put him on." I loved that the thought of his son lifted his mood enough to bring a smile to his words.

"Hey buddy, daddy's on the phone, he wants to say hi." I helped him curl his small hand around the body of the mobile as he pressed it to his ear.

I could only hear Chris' end of the conversation but it warmed my heart to see it was a happy one, Chris in full animation as he told Christian what he's been up to on the jungle gym. Seeing his face light up like that was like a balm to my ragged nerves.

When Chris ended the call with a carefree _I love you daddy_ my emotions got thick enough to slice. I'd bet anything that Christian's did the same. It took us a minute to compose ourselves before either of us could speak.

Making a point to avoid any conversation regarding the perp Christian started on a safer thread, "How are you feeling about your appointment with Flynn?"

"Honestly? A little disconcerted but after this…" I waved a hand through the air, knowing that Christian wouldn't need any further explanation, "I feel I need it more than ever."

"Yeah, I understand," he said his tone turning thoughtful. "Just go with it, trust him if you can. The quicker you open up the better your progress will be. I've seen a lot of shrinks and he's hands down the best." He left a pause before he added, "For what it's worth baby, I'm glad you're doing this."

"Me too." I said, meaning it but it did nothing to ease my apprehension. "Thank you for arranging it."

We let a silence brew between us. I don't know if it was just me but it felt unhealthy, too many things unsaid and uncertain. I felt it gather and like any building storm I was worried that it was going to destroy us.

Saying goodbye didn't make me feel any better, the vibe between us was iffy at best. If this bastard wanted us at each other's throats he was beginning to succeed and I, for one, would do anything to avoid giving him the satisfaction.

Ray appeared in the outline of the back door and I waved him over, my smile thin as it came into play automatically, no real joy behind it. As he ambled closer I clocked the newspaper in his hand together with the grim set of his face. _Oh no! _Realisation hit hard when the thought of press coverage barrelled into my brain - _the shooting must be all over the news._

On top of my crazy meltdown Christian still had to deal with reporters and their wild speculations. This story I knew would be sensationalized to a gossiping riot, leaving the truth far behind in the dust.

Ray took a seat beside me, his worried expression telling. Apprehension turned a tighter coil in my belly as he made no move to show me the paper "Hi honey, you speak to Christian yet?"

I nodded, concentrating on keeping my breaths even.

Ray's gaze dropped before lifting to find mine again, as if he was choosing his words carefully. "It's all over the news, I'm not sure it will do you any good to see this," he gave the paper a quick tap. "It's mostly horseshit anyway." He was watching me very closely, assessing the impact of his words.

After this morning's chaos I was fairly sure that I didn't want to see. "I'm not sure either," I said honestly. "Maybe after my time with Dr Flynn?" my question was rhetorical, there was never going to be a clear answer for a decision like that.

Ray looked relieved and sat back on the bench. I made a metal note to e-mail my mom so she wouldn't worry any more than she already was. "Did the guys fill you in on the flowers?"

"Yep." His short answer was as telling as the harsh flash of ire I saw in his eyes in spite of the fact that he was so adept at hiding it. That and the fact that he kept his watch trained on a spot in the distance and the twitching muscles in his jaw betrayed how much this affected him.

I reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze, "I'm sorry dad."

He returned my squeeze and pulled me into his side with his arm curling around my shoulders. "Don't be." He said simply and dropped a kiss on my head.

Just then Chris came charging up to us, delighted to see his grandpa back. "Mommy, Grandpa, look what I found!" With enthusiasm only reserved for little children he thrust his hand right up to our noses. In his palm he held a big, black, shiny, squirming beetle with tentacles flailing madly. He was so excited that he struggled to keep still as it crawled around on his little hand, tickling him.

It was definitely time to take my leave. As unobtrusively as I could I shifted out of what I guessed was possible beetle jumping range – just in case. My smile, I could feel was laced with a touch of horror. Much as I loved my son, adored his innocent embrace of all living things I didn't share his delight with creepy-crawlies.

"That's great buddy!" I feigned animation and slid my phone across the bench to Ray. "Have grandad take a picture then we can text it to daddy." Ray gave me an amused, sidelong glance, snorting at my reaction. "I'll catch up with you a little later. Mommy has some e-mails to send."

I fled the scuttling beetle, shaking off my crawling shivers in the safety of the kitchen. _Beetles are bad enough _I thought - and hoped his fascination didn't grow into snakes or spiders. I took a handful of dry, savoury biscuits, grabbed another bottle of electrolyte solution and headed for my bedroom.

When I passed the guys bent over their screens the earnest silence marked a stark contrast to their usual banter. My subconscious was quick to nudge me with an accusing finger, reminding me how rude I was earlier. I halted, clearing my throat to get their attention. "Collins, I just wanted to apologise for not thinking my actions through, I put you in an impossible position and I'm sorry you got into trouble."

He gave me a lopsided grin, hiking up his shoulders in a single shrug, "It's all good Mrs Grey. I understand but it would be good if you can learn to trust us to do our job."

I pressed my lips together, knowing my shame was blazing red on my face. He was being incredibly reasonable, only showing up my thoughtlessness. I considered his request and found it really wasn't excessive. "Will do." I breathed, feeling sheepish as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other; I still had another apology to go. Satisfied he returned his attention to his monitor.

"Carl, I owe you an apology too. What I implied was completely unfounded. I know you're doing everything you can to keep us safe."

When he looked up to me he seemed so young, it surprised me that I didn't notice before. They were all so big and strong and confident I lost sight of the fact that he was still relatively new at this and it seemed my opinion mattered to him. "Thank you Mrs Grey." He scrubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that belied the assurance he normally exuded. "I would hate to fu…, uhm, mess up this job."

I pursed my lips and nodded my understanding before giving him a reassuring smile. "You're doing great. Thank you." I noticed that Collins nodded his agreement, the older man's eyes softening with what looked like pride. Carl clocked it then dropped his gaze, suddenly finding his keyboard very interesting as the red tips of his ears burned with his bashfulness.

I left them to it, feeling better for making amends as I nibbled on the dry biscuits and fired up my laptop. I decided to check my e-mails while I waited for Dr Flynn's call. True to Christian's word I had four e-mails from Julie Logan, all attached to chapters that I needed to edit. By her accompanying notes it seemed like a lot, too much to delve into right now but I sent a fervent prayer for resolution. Hopefully she hadn't been too brutal. I was so deeply entrenched in my work, put so much of myself into it I didn't know how I'd survive any harsh criticisms if at all.

Next I sent a mail to my mom in an effort to curb her worry though I knew that faced with the deluge of crazy press ahead it was almost impossible. I told her to call me whenever she felt she needed to.

When the familiar Skype tones rang I flushed as my heart skidded to a halt. Nervous fingers ran through my hair before clicking the connection to Dr Flynn. While I waited for his image feed to appear I wriggled up against the headboard with the laptop on my lap, getting comfortable for the long session.

"Ana, how are you? It's so good to see you." The familiar British accent along with his warm greeting and genuine smile instantly put me at ease.

I returned his friendly look, hoping that the private sharing I'm about to embark on won't alter the easy relationship I have with him. Right off the bat I wanted to be honest so I started with the truth. "Hello Dr Flynn, it's good to see you too and I am as well as can be expected under the circumstances." I screwed up my face, the unease about my past and our current situation finding a way to express itself.

His eyes shone with unexpected surprise, his brows lifting to accentuate the sentiment. "Start as you mean to go on?" Though it was framed as a question it served as an observational statement about my intentions that I was pleased he picked up on. "I'm impressed Ana, listening closely enough to answer a question honestly and ignoring the social convention of simply saying things are fine when they are not is a wonderful start, especially in a therapy session."

I looked down, flicking one nail beneath another, self-conscious about feeling so exposed. When I didn't answer he chuckled gently, "But I see we need to work on making you feel comfortable doing that."

I looked up, a wry grin in place. He really was good at reading people, I felt myself wanting to trust him. "That would help a lot."

"Okay, think about it this way. You don't strike me as a closed off person. In the past I'm sure that you've asked for a friend's opinion on something or maybe asked for advice from a parent?"

I nodded, waiting for him to clarify.

"The people you chose to confide in are people you trust. You and I don't know each other well enough for that trust to be inherent so it's something we'll have to develop and that's completely normal but just as you'd confide in a friend think of me as that same friend only I have access to the tools that can really help you."

I liked the point he was making, more often than not a friend's well-meaning advice was driven by their own intentions and preconceived perceptions. If I was going to talk to someone it may as well be someone who could offer me something tangible in return and this way I never had to worry about the motive behind the help though I was still stuck with the asking-for-help-in-the-first-place issue. "That makes sense but what if I don't know when I need help?"

"Ah," he lifted his pen and pointed it at me. "That brings us to the reason why we're doing this doesn't it?" With one sculpted brow arched he scanned my face for clues, gauging my inclination to jump off this confessional cliff. "Why don't we start by you telling me your version of what happened?"

_Wow, he was good._ Without even realising I was already knee deep in the session that I was so apprehensive about but his assessment made short work of wiping that awe off my face. It was time to start picking through all the profoundly stupid things I did to pin down the reasons my subconscious drove me to those choices.

At the mention of her name she bailed and hid under a bed, sending her prissy, winged spectacles flying. My inner goddess, harbouring five years of regret, was hot on her heels. She wasn't going to let her get away that easily. I watched as she dived in after her, dragging her out by the ankles to haul her back into the spotlight.

With her hand shielding her eyes from the harsh light of introspection I recounted my sorry tale in all its gory details. I could only pray that I wasn't heading for mega doses of medication or worse, a padded cell.

Dr Flynn's attitude toward me, once I laid myself bare, was what finally convinced me that I was doing the right thing. There was no judgement in his eyes, no sour disapproval that turned down his mouth and no accusing fingers shaking at me. We ended the session with his calm assurance that I'll quickly get to a place of peace if I continued to be so forthcoming.

Though congruency in my conscience was vitally important to me the pressing matter of the crippling fear I was currently bound to was even more so. If I couldn't find a way to deal with it in an appropriate manner it was guaranteed to lead me down another dark path I didn't want to get lost on. Encouraged by how well my first session went I mentioned it to John and landed myself a session a day for the foreseeable future. Clearly I had a lot of work to do.

I spent the rest of the day dividing my time between the fun craft activities I laid out for Chris and revising my chapters according to Julie's very thorough notes. Once I started I got sucked into my words and found that the comments she made were sensible and easy to understand. I enjoyed the distraction, it kept my mind riveted and off the scary mental tangents my brain wandered on if it wasn't occupied elsewhere.

Christian checked in with me on a regular basis and I was grateful that apart from a few brief but necessary exchanges of information relating to our situation we both made an effort to keep things light. The police interview with the florist yielded very little, the order was placed by phone and paid for with a disposable gift card that was purchased with cash but the owner did remember that the customer who placed the unusual order was male and specifically requested the accompanying card be typed and not hand written.

According to Christian the police had both the perp's place of residence and work under surveillance and I had no doubt that we had our own men watching as well. I was more than a little surprised when he confided in me that he felt the police raid on the perp's unlisted property had tipped him off and that now he was lying low.

By bedtime I had mailed Julie ten revised chapters and Christian's e-mails and texts were beginning to show just how much he was missing me. His increasingly seductive messages left me flustered and frustrated. With Chris in the single bed a few feet away and a house full of people, half of them keeping a watchful eye on the closed circuit TV system that guarded our immediate surroundings, phone sex was completely out of the question.

With Sunday's arrival I gained a steady thrum of apprehension. It flowed through me unchecked, wreaking havoc with the scary thoughts I managed to supress yesterday. Christian was going back to work tomorrow and as far as I could see there was nothing I could do to stop him. That on top of a growing sexual frustration that was only fanned by another round of regular, dirty texts from my naughty husband left me with a burning, restless energy.

I had to work extra hard on keeping my mind on my pages and out of the mental gutter it kept veering to with the least bit of encouragement. If I wasn't thinking about the many ways this could go wrong for us I felt the empty ache between my thighs.

Chris and I settled into our new routine with him play learning beside me while I worked on my book. I took him outside as much as I could, letting him climb the jungle gym but I was already feeling caged in. It was only a matter of time before he would be bored and become hard to manage.

Monday's dawning did nothing for my terror except make it worse. I found it very hard to implement the fear fighting tools Dr Flynn suggested I try, especially in the face of the magnitude of our problems. I went through the motions of the day, starting at even the slightest of noises. When my phone rang it instantly cast my legs in jelly. Christian, as always, was attuned to my panicked state and did everything he could to keep me calm, even resorting to leaving his Skype window open so I could watch him work whenever my thoughts ran away with me.

I was so relieved when I spoke to him on Monday night, his and my day equally uneventful and him safely back at the Fairmont that I slept well for the first time in days. As the week wore on I began to relax, a tiny seed of hope sprouting in my heart. Maybe the police spooked him enough to scare him away for good.

Thursday afternoon I sat on my bed, researching some things for my book in a rare moment of peace and quiet. Ray promised Chris that they would build an ant farm and they had just headed outside to start their little project. If it had something to do with bugs I knew it would keep Chris busy for hours. I was grateful to Ray for a break, I was exhausted.

Christian was supposed to be in a meeting so I was surprised when his name popped up in a Skype message.

**Hi baby, what are you doing? I miss you! I can't wait to see you again.**

I giggled, wondering if he was still in his meeting.

**I'm researching something for my book, aren't you supposed to be in a meeting? I miss you more.**

**I am but the world of mergers isn't as riveting as your company and you've left me hanging every day so far. I'm not sure how much more I can take ;)**

I blushed, in spite of being alone. _What did he expect me to do_ I wondered, feeling the delicious stirring that's been bothering me all week. Besides I thought with a smile curving my mouth, he started it. At least he had the privacy of his hotel room if he needed some release; here I had cameras and a little boy too inquisitive by half. I was stuck with my condition and too inhibited to do anything about it. Suddenly it occurred to me that, in a happy twist of fate, I was alone right now and he was stuck in a meeting, surrounded by suited bodies that weren't aware of the sexy messages we were exchanging.

Emboldened and still high on my stunning hospital phone sex attempt I considered my options. My inner goddess' eyes were bright with approval for my plan. For all the times he's teased and taunted, stroked and stoked the flames of my desire and making me wait for orgasms I was desperate for I thought payback was in order.

**Mr Grey, I beg to differ. You've been merciless in your erotic assault. I've been aching for you for days and with no option for release. I'm about to explode. **

It was true. I've been strung out for his touch since the weekend. The constant surges of adrenaline over the last week, for me at least, always ended with desire. With every salacious text and e-mail my need built, even my panties excited me at this point. I don't know how I managed without it for five years but now that he was back in my life, even a day without him was asking too much.

While I waited for his reply I raced to the dining room to retrieve the tablet that controlled the security cameras then locked myself in my room. If I wanted to stay brave enough to do this I couldn't afford any distractions or interruptions. I opened the app then repositioned the camera in my room to stare up at the ceiling. If I paused to consider what the guys were going to think I'd lose my nerve so I pushed the thought aside in a lust hazed rush.

**Mrs Grey, I like you begging. Tell me baby, what would you be begging for?**

I could just picture his smug, wicked grin complimenting those smouldering, stormy eyes. Way too confident that I'd be the one squirming but I couldn't rush this, what I really wanted was for him to tell me to turn the web cam on. For what I had in mind he needed to see me, and I him.

**Mr Grey, I wish I could show you but I'll make do with my words. First, I'd beg you to kiss me. Slow and long, stroking your tongue along mine, groaning into my mouth. I want you to press my body into to yours so I can feel every firm, unyielding plane of yours against every soft curve of mine.**

I hit send with a hungry and delighted shiver quaking through me. Crossing my fingers I wished for him to take the bait.

**Mmhh, I like the sound of that Mrs Grey. Are you alone?**

My stomach did a little flip, my heart jumped into my throat. I knew what was coming.

**I am Mr Grey. Chris just went outside with Ray to build an ant farm.**

If he thought it was his idea he was far more likely to let it go on so I played dumb and waited for him to play into my hand.

**Why don't you lock your door and turn the web cam on? Keep your sound off. Make sure your CCTV camera is turned away.**

I scrambled off the bed and got naked. I suspected that he expected me to turn him down, that he was going to have fun trying to talk me into showing him a little bit of skin. The thought of seeing his shocked face in a couple of seconds had me panting, already wet. I couldn't wait to see the change in his eyes as they turned darker, hooded. I waited for his image to appear before I activated my own.

The instant saw him, staring intently at the screen, his steepled fingers resting on his sinful mouth I realised that his location was in my favour as well. He was in the boardroom at Grey house, at the head of the table with his back to the wall of windows that graced every side of his building. I knew that the closest person would be sitting down along the sides of the table, a good few feet away from him. My privacy was assured.

I arranged myself in front of the laptop in what I hoped would be the most revealing way. My back rested against the headboard giving him a view of my breasts but with the laptop standing on the bed his most direct vista would be of the slick folds between my spread thighs. I clicked my camera icon and waited for the image to stream.

The seconds felt like hours as I held my breath in nervous anticipation. I didn't kid myself that I held all the cards here, he could very easily be mad and disconnect the call the second he saw me but I was a desperate woman, hell bent on payback with a window of opportunity that was too good to waste.

When the tiny PIP appeared in the top corner of my screen his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. I revelled in the gleeful satisfaction of his reaction. I held my come-hither smile while he regained his bearings, darting his shocked gaze to his employees to make sure that he alone was privy to the image in front of him.

If I wanted his stunned daze to linger I was disappointed. Now that his assessment of the situation yielded no threat he was happy to play this game. His full lips curved into a knowing grin, the darkening irises tightening my inner muscles in a wanton clench.

**Anastasia, I'm happy to see you baby. I like your outfit.**

_Gah! He wasn't playing fair!_ If I was going to drive him wild I was going to have to take this all the way home.

I ran my hands over my breasts, closing my eyes as I imagined the path he would take. Finding my nipples I rolled then between my fingers, lengthening the straining tips with gentle tugs.

**I'm hard for you baby. I wish I was there. Can you feel me pinch your nipples? **

I pinched the tight buds in response to his message, my back arcing off the bed as the pain/pleasure ran a burning trail straight to my core. If I paused to think about it I'd be surprised at how quickly I shed my coyness but my mind was fixed on the steady hum of need between my legs.

**Are you wet for me baby?**

I nodded, heavy lidded I snaked a hand down my belly and parted my swollen lips with two gentle fingers. I watched him shift in his seat, readjusting himself as he sank his teeth into his lip. An almost pained expression crossed his features as his head tilted to take in the angle of what must've been a fairly close-up view of me spreading myself for him.

**Fuck! I can see. Jeez, I think you've made your point.**

His head snapped back, remembering himself and his surroundings. I know I had my skilled tiger of a husband by his lashing tail but I was too far gone to let it go. I wanted my release more than I feared his possible retaliation.

I shook my head, biting into my lip to stem a mewl as I brushed past my clitoris to slip a finger inside.

**Are you trying to kill me Mrs Grey?**

I gave him a coquettish smile and nodded, loving the way he seemed to be about to climb through the screen to come to my aid. I let my other hand join its mate, rubbing my clitoris in slow circles. For a moment my eyes flickered closed before latching on to his fierce gaze.

**Okay, you're going to have to be quick baby. Do as I tell you. Hook the finger inside to press against your wall.**

I did what he said and instantly connected with a spot that sent a jolt through me. I threw back my head as the tension in my body coiled a little more, readying itself for the violent release.

**Now baby, rub a little harder, a little faster.**

I increased my rhythm as I watched him watching me. I felt so naughty, the risk I was taking heightening my senses, ratcheting my simmering burn to explosive levels. If it was weird that my husband was directing the way I pleasured myself I didn't care, he knew my body better than anyone, even me.

For a moment the world stood still keeping me in limbo before the earth tilted on its axis and dropped me into a free fall of earthshattering bliss. My body shook and arched, my head thrashed as my hands strummed that tiny bundle of nerves into overdrive.

**That's it baby, feel it riding you. Even the ones you give yourself belong to me.**

I blinked at the screen, coming to my senses and feeling very exposed and vulnerable. I pulled on my dressing gown wondering what the hell got into me. Christian was looking pleased with himself but I could tell that he was aroused, perilously close to the edge of his control. He looked ready to eat me.

**Don't go all shy on me now Mrs Grey. That was smoking hot!**

I blushed, avoiding his hooded gaze that revealed all the things he wanted to do to me right then. The grinding orgasm I just had paled in comparison to the pleasure he could bring me and just like that the ache for him was back.

**I miss you too much. Please come and see us?**

My earlier vulnerability was sticking around, reminding me of our situation and the uncertainties surrounding it.

**I know baby, we'll see. Let's talk about it tonight.**

His expression turned warm, so loving it only made the ache worse. He glanced at the department heads still gracing his boardroom table before touching his fingertips to the screen in what had fast become our signature sign off. I touched back, aligning my fingers to match his exactly.

**I love you Mr Grey.**

He winked at me, dropping his hand to type.

**I love you too Mrs Grey. **

I smiled, my finger poised to end the call when the power went out in his building, plunging their boardroom in partial darkness. A moment later I heard the screech of an alarm. I saw the concern before he arranged his face back to his usual impassive mask.

He waved then shut the laptop, cutting me off, leaving me panicked and confused. _What the hell…?_

**Chapter 37 to follow. Please be kind and review.**

**Check out my latest addition to Fanfiction, Valentine's Meander, a short story as a sequel to Fifty Shades Meander and Christmas Meander but from Christian's point of view. You can find the link on my profile by clicking onto my name. **


	37. Chapter 37

**Thank you for your precious reviews.**

**Chapter 37**

My post coital glow froze over rapidly, chilling me with a frightening terror. My heart stopped – completely, rendering me incapable of logical, practical thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ With every skipped beat my breath came shorter, shallower, my mind singular in its focus - panic. That was what this was; pure, crippling, blind panic.

Just like Dr Flynn taught me the day before, naming the emotion was what saved me from the attack that might have become full blown. That and Ray's drill, a chanting distant voice in the back of my head to stay calm is what got me off my ass and racing to the team for help, finally letting the determination to help my husband override the fear that was holding me hostage.

The moment I burst into the room it was already on high alert. Collins was barking into the phone clutched between his tensed shoulder and ear, fingers flying over the keyboard with fevered strokes that could only spell trouble. I should have known that our system here would be connected to the GEH mainframe.

A second later saw Ray jogging into the house, Chris bouncing on his hip and Carl bringing up the rear, securing doors as he went. It didn't take a genius to figure out that we were under lockdown. Ray's schooled control inspired the same in me, prompting a steeling breath. When he reached me an authoritative hand curled around my upper arm and guided me away, "Let's give these fellas some room."

We filed into Ray's study before he let Chris down. I took a seat, perched on the very edge of the wingback facing the desk, grateful for a minute to think then, almost instantly, hating the opportunity to do so. At least Chris seemed unconcerned as he climbed onto my lap, distracting me with their outdoor adventure.

On his desk PC Ray selected a movie for Chris and in a stroke of inspiration, enticed him into wearing headphones so that we could have a private talk. Only when we were sure Chris was engrossed and oblivious did Ray round the desk. He stood facing me as he leaned back against the table top with his arms crossed over his chest and a grim expression on his face, "What happened Annie?" His calm, reined-in baritone spoke of his taciturn nature, his stone cold grip on control providing the glue that kept me from tearing apart.

"I'm not sure daddy. Christian and I were chatting on Skype when they had a power outage at GEH. I heard an alarm or something then he severed the call."

Ray nodded, "Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves, that doesn't mean anything and I'm sure they have a back-up power supply."

Ray's words were reasonable, logical but for now they didn't fly in the face of the uncertainty I was feeling. Could someone use the time between an outage and the onset of the back-up power to breach the GEH fortress? Will Christian call the police or try to handle this in-house? What if the outage seemed innocuous and they missed something, something that came back to haunt us later? Ray was right, I was getting way ahead of myself but it was impossible not to speculate, the anxiety came off me like I was wearing it, like it thrummed in my very blood. There was no way to separate myself from it.

I nodded my assent, keeping the barrage of questions to myself. I felt as though I'd give them life if I dared to utter them. Clearly dread was making me superstitious. I also didn't want Ray to worry about me any more than he already was.

Ray quizzed me about the flowers while we waited for news. I was happy to oblige, in spite of the crappy topic it was better than letting my uncertainties run riot in my exhausted head.

Later, when my brain was less mush and more substance I realised that our time in the study barely took up the best part of ten minutes but it felt like hours before Carl knocked on the door.

Ray and I lunged at the door but I made it first, wrenching it open with a pleading look and a silent litany falling from my lips – _please let it be nothing. _

Carl took a startled step back, no doubt in shock of the beseeching woman he saw before him. "Uhm… Mrs Grey," he blinked then recovered, "seems we've had a false alarm. Several grids in Seattle have been without power, we're confirming with the council but it seems they blew a transformer."

The sensation of the heavy tension leaving my body now left me feeling dizzy and light, like I might take off in the slightest of breezes. _Oh thank goodness!_ I clutched at my heart as I stumbled back to find a seat in lieu of my unsupportive legs.

A second later Collins rushed in, the sound of _Somebody_ as soothing as balm when he held out my ringing phone to me. All in a single motion I expressed my gratitude with a heartfelt smile, took the phone and swiped it into action, "Christian?"

"Baby." I heard the rush of his exhalation. "I'm sorry for leaving you hanging like that, I had to make sure things were secure here but we're fine. We're all fine, I'm sure the boys already filled you in."

As the adrenaline ebbed, the tears flowed - big, splashy, silent, grateful tears. "Christian." I breathed his name, my relief evident in the rasp of my tone.

His nervous chuckle didn't surprise me though I had hoped that by now my concern for him would be less of a novelty. It reinforced what I already knew; he still needed the constant reassurance of my love and commitment and, with every blessed moment that he was available to me, I was only too happy to oblige. "I love you Christian."

His intake of breath was sharp, as he remained silent for a beat. I got the sense that he was letting the words sink in, filling some unseen emotional reservoir in a rare moment of acceptance. "I love you too. More than you know."

An exquisite moment of bonding silence followed, both of us revelling in what seemed to be an extension of our time together. Whether it was temporary or permanent I didn't know but I was happy to take every minute I could get, any way I could get it.

Taylor calling for Christian's attention in the background interrupted our emotional melding, broke our shared moment, "Baby I have to go, I just didn't want you to worry. I'll catch up with you tonight."

After I whispered a reluctant goodbye I let my husband go but the unease that clung to me was much harder to shake. If fervent wishing could resolve the mess we were in the intensity of mine would have forced them to be granted – my fairy godmother was so freaking fired. I wanted no part of a creature whose sick sense of humour handed me the man of my dreams then dumped us in a pile so deep there was no end in sight.

By late afternoon I suspect my jumpiness was getting to Ray. If the hard line of tension drawing my shoulders in a bunch and the rigid set of my jaw wasn't enough then the restlessness vibrating off me would be a dead give-away – I was on the edge of the edge.

When he called me to the lounge I groaned when I took in the foam mats covering the lounge floor. He'd moved the furniture up against the walls and along with an over-excited Chris was waiting for me to join their impromptu self-defence class in an effort to help me work off some steam. Even Sawyer who, unfortunately for him, was early for his shift was roped in to be my general punching bag/sparring partner.

Reluctance didn't begin to describe how little I wanted to be part of this but Carl and Collins were grinning widely, their jeers encouraging me to wipe the floor with their colleague and Chris' sweet animation was impossible to resist.

Considering our history I understood the glint in Sawyer's eyes when we assumed our positions, feet planted wide, facing each other. The idea of him handing me my ass in a small motion of revenge for escaping him suddenly seemed very likely but I must admit that my mind was already off our crappy situation.

Ray issued some instructions as he faced Chris, his mini opponent almost expiring with enthusiasm as he stood ready to take on his grandpa in a phenomenal show of toddler bravery that's never met with the jading events that teaches us fear.

I gulped a breath and tried to find my centre, forcing myself to visualise the drill I was going to execute. My body was humming with the multiple hits of adrenaline I've had over the last few weeks, my muscles flexing in anticipation as I steeled myself for being manhandled by the lug that had at least 120 pounds on me. A wave of exhilaration told me that Ray had hit the nail on the head, a release for all the pent-up frustration and hopelessness was exactly what I needed.

When Ray barked the command I threw myself at Sawyer, instinct taking over. A second later Sawyer was on his back, pinned down by my determined knee on the inside of his bulky bicep. I couldn't help grinning at his saucered eyes as they betrayed his surprise. _Take that!_

Collins and Carl were both at the end of their shift and supposed to be leaving but they were up from their seats, edging closer to enjoy the spectacle of their Secret Service colleague in the prone position.

Carl was too respectful to say anything even though he couldn't hold back his chuckle but Collins, feeling more secure in his relationship with Sawyer, had no qualms in starting up the playful banter. "Damn Luke! That's gotta' sting! And by an itty bitty girl!"

It felt good to laugh with them; it was good natured and reminded me that not everything had gone to pot. Sawyer grumbled something about not being ready, his thunderous expression ominous but I could tell it was only for show, it belied the sparkle in his eyes, giving me the impression that he was proud of me.

We spent the next hour going through stalling and break-away techniques with some strikes thrown in for good measure. I knew many of them from Ray's training but Sawyer was up to date with the latest in the world of self-defence and taught me some useful new ones. He was a great teacher, calm and patient while Ray was happy to leave me in his capable hands as he spent his time instructing Chris.

Collins and Carl stayed to watch the entire session, their tired bodies forgotten as they watched Sawyer in action. By their awed faces I realised that they held him in very high regard, maybe even strove to be like him.

At the end of the session I was pleasantly exhausted, covered in sweat and endlessly grateful for Ray's foresight. Sparring like this, especially as a woman, left me feeling powerful and strong. For the first time in days my edgy buzz was nicely under control, I felt almost like myself as I headed for the shower. When I rounded the corner into the passage I overheard Sawyer congratulating Ray on teaching me well. In spite of how unemotional Ray could sometimes seem I knew the acknowledgement would please him, especially considering the source.

After my shower I drew a bath for Chris then put him to bed with a story. The exercise had been good for him and a nice change from the boring routine we had fallen into. I grinned at his long yawns as he battled the weight of his eyelids, amused that one so tired would have the urge to fight it off.

Tiptoeing out of the room and down the passage I found Ray and Sawyer bent over an open file on the dining room table. Their voices were hushed but urgent, lending an eerie air to the normally welcoming space. I could just make out the words _dangerous_ and _cartel_ when they looked up; startled to see me. The uneasy mood didn't improve and by their ruddy faces I could add guilt to the mix – they were hiding something form me.

I took a deep breath, straightening to my full height which - granted - wasn't much, but I refused to be coddled. My eyes narrowed as I took them in, announcing my suspicion as I fisted my hands in my hips, "What's going on?" My voice was clear and low, it held the exact tone I was hoping to attain – stern, uncompromising.

The two men flushed then shared a look. Ray shrugged his shoulders as he blew out an exasperated breath, "You better sit down Annie." With his chin he motioned to the couch behind me that once again took up its rightful place in the lounge that doubled as our gym earlier.

My heart and knees didn't like the sound of that, both seemed to stop working as Ray's expression took on what he was really feeling – bleak. Seeing my ashen face he took charge by steering me to the sofa where he joined me, the file in his hand setting off all sorts of alarm bells in my suddenly hyperaware head. Sawyer headed for his station, leaving Ray the sole barer of what I knew had to be bad news.

Mercifully without preamble Ray started, sensing that prolonging my agony was not going to do any of us any good. "When I had a look through the perp's files there was something about the David Blackmore guy that struck me as familiar so I cashed in some favours to check it out."

_We have files on the perps?_ I should have known. Apart from the perp's photographs Taylor showed me I was not shown anything else, wasn't even aware that we had the files that Ray obviously had full access to. Shaking my head I cursed that my "full disclosure" came with some restrictions. My lips thinned with displeasure but I kept my mouth firmly shut, allowing Ray to continue.

"I remembered an opp with a similar MO we were working in the mid-nineties. We were called in after a simple industrial espionage case got blown open by an overzealous reporter. The article he ran accused big mining and petroleum corporations of hiring spies to infiltrate growing "green companies" in an effort to undermine their cutting edge work to reduce the world-wide reliance on fossil fuels."

Though full comprehension was still out of reach I could already make the connections between our situation and what Ray was telling me, but I didn't understand how my dad and the military fitted into the picture. Nor did it stop the fear from creeping back, slowly tying my stomach in knots. I nodded, showing my understanding as I soaked up his well-loved face with the growing knowledge that the news was going to be devastating.

Clearing his throat in an obvious stalling tactic he rubbed unusually nervous hands on his denim clad thighs. Seeing Ray uptight was not something I was used to. It was very unsettling to watch his Adam's apple bob along his throat as he searched for appropriate euphemistic words to soften the blow I was expecting.

"The reporter came to an untimely death and so did some key personnel who were working on a secret project for an up-and-coming green industrialist. That would still have been a police or maybe an FBI matter but my team was called in because the so-called industrial spy connected to this debacle had known links to a drug cartel in Columbia and he disappeared along with a hostage that the US government wasn't prepared to sacrifice."

Listening to Ray I was stuck in a nightmare, playing the most horrific game of connect the dots as I drew the correlations. The picture was becoming brutally clear not to mention very ugly to look at.

I knew there were some things about what Ray did that he couldn't share with me but I tried to read between the lines, picking up on what he could and couldn't divulge. "So you went in to rescue the hostage?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his eyes glazed over as he looked into the past. "And we were tasked to find the connection between the cartel and the hostage. You know, what would a drug cartel do with a pioneering eco scientist? It didn't make sense and I guess the government was concerned that the narcotics industry was revolutionising or something if they needed this guy's expertise."

Frowning, I suddenly wondered the same thing and shuddered at the implications. Ray was quick to put me out of my misery, cutting his gaze - now focussed - back to me. "Turns out the only connection was just that – a connection. The cartel boss turned out to be the brother of one of the directors of the coal mining company that had instigated the espionage. The drug lord brother supplied his sibling with a contact he usually used for drug related business and it was the mining company who ordered the kidnapping of the scientist that they had tried to entice into their ranks for years."

"And did you manage the rescue?" I was drawn into the story, unable to untangle myself from it even though what little good sense I had told me to squeeze my eyes tight, put my hands over my ears and hum to drown out the sound of Ray exposing the tale.

"We did along with the intel we gathered but the spy got away, escaping into the dense forests of Columbia but, all in all, it was regarded as a successful mission."

"Okay," I breathed, aware that there was still a vital piece of information I was missing, "so how is this related to our perp?"

I watched Ray lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers massaging his temples in slow circles. "The spy's name was John Finch and according to this file," he tapped it, not yet willing to pass it to me, "aka Mike Duncan, aka Grant Russel, aka David Blackmore."

Even though I was expecting the blow it came with no less force, knocking the wind from my lungs in a rush. Finally Ray held the file out to me, my hand taking and opening it in autopilot mode. Staring at what looked like various passport photos I could see how he changed his appearance every time he took on a new identity but with the benefit of having all the photos next to each other to compare it was easy to spot that it was the same man.

Sensing my distress Ray filled the shocked silence between us. I'm sure I would have had questions if my brain wasn't too numb to think of them. "From what I can gather, after our mission he saw a gap in the market and reinvented himself to do what he was recruited for by the coal company – a specialist industrial spy with little regard for laws, hired by companies with dark intentions and very deep pockets."

Having a spy at GEH was bad enough but one with this particular skillset and, it seemed, deadly determined was nauseating. "Does Christian know?" my voice was shaky, my mouth dry and my throat coated with the bitterness of bile.

"Yes, I got the e-mail right after you went for a shower and forwarded it to Taylor. I made this copy to share with Luke." Hearing his name made the man look up from his monitor and Ray called him over.

Strangely the fear greased the cogs in my head; now turning they post the facts to the relevant mental files, slowly compiling a probable sequence of events. We already know that he could devise a rouse to access Christian's office, especially if he used to work at GEH HQ; he owns a .308 calibre hunting rifle and finding The Grace as well as the location of Christian's private residence would be child's play for a criminal like him. Also Christian's cop acquaintance lifted the BDSM file on Christian from the unlisted property he owned that happened to be filled with information about us and our movements which begged the question I asked, "So if this guy started working for GEH, how did his past slip by HR?"

Sawyer took up the baton from Ray, "This is not like a simple lie on your resume, something that Mr Grey's HR department is very adept at sniffing out. This guy goes way deeper, actually stealing an identity that has a whole authentic history behind it. These days identity theft is an industry in itself and I would imagine a guy with ties to the cartels has all the right criminal contacts. It's almost impossible to spot because the background is legit."

"Yet, in spite of being so adept at lying he gets fingered for espionage?" I frown at Sawyer, my train of thought wanting to take me in a million directions.

He nods, pursing his lips, "Ah, yes. That's where Mr Grey's company is unique. Rooting out the trash before they even start at GEH is only the beginning of the security system. Between Mr Grey, Barney and Taylor they've devised a complex, multi-layered system with built-in fail safes to counter check each level. A network of imaging and data that can almost spit out a name at the press of a button if there was a suspicion and in the case of David that's exactly what happened. The system picked up on files being opened by an unauthorised user and the team followed the trail from there."

"So he underestimated GEH's level of security and the system pointed him out. Then he gets fired but not prosecuted? When did he leave?" Piece by piece I'm fitting the bits of information into a timeline.

"According to David's file they picked up on the espionage very quickly, acted even quicker. He got away with too little to prosecute but he was fired three months ago on the spot. I'm not sure why Mr Grey let it slide, I wasn't in Mr Grey's employment at the time but I guess because so little damage was done and the guy left without making a big fuss."

"How long did he work for GEH before they picked up on his activities?" I don't know how far I can take this with Sawyer, it's clear that the info he has is not from firsthand experience.

"If I recall about four months Mrs Grey, he took his time to find the lay of the land so to speak before he made his move. After he was fired the team would have had another look into his background but nothing in there would've been suspicious. Mr Grey questioned him about his motivation but being the professional that he is he had a plausible cover story in place."

Sawyer sits back, crossing his ankle over the opposite leg's knee, settling in to share what he knows. "He confessed to Taylor after some, uhm…" he broke off mid-sentence, grappling to find the right words when I realised that Taylor must've beat the crap out of him, "…persuasion that he worked alone and that he was after GEH's unregistered patents to sell on the black market. The fact that he got away with so little worked against us in this regard because David still had plenty of room to lie. If he would have been caught with something more substantial it may have been easier to verify his story or connect him to a competitor."

He catches my wide-eyed stare as I try to come to grips with the layers of deceit unfolding before me; it's like something from a movie. His mouth turns a rueful line, his expression sombre, "Now we know why he took the blame on himself, he was protecting the corporation that hired him and keeping himself in a job that must be worth a good few million dollars."

_And he's still out there,_ my head screams in protest to the influx of fresh facts. With resources, motive and apparently drive to do whatever it took to get rid of the other half of my soul. Just as that realisation settles another one strikes, leaving me breathless with fright. Even if we manage to find and eliminate this guy nothing stops the corporation that hired him to keep trying to derail Christian and his company. _Fuck!_

Christian is rich, very rich but just like him, they're trying to protect what they've built and in spite of the astronomical size of GEH it's owned by him and him alone. A multi-national corporation is almost a face-less threat. With every new thought my outlook gets bleaker, our future darker.

Ray's voice breaks into my thoughts, anchoring me back to the moment. "Annie, you okay sweetheart, you've gone very pale?"

_No, not in the slightest_ but that's not what I say, "Uhm, yes. Just a lot to take in." I'm vaguely aware that I don't sound convincing but I'm too distracted to care. I get up, my legs moving without volition to carry me outside for a long gulp of air. I don't feel the icy wind as it bites into my arms, my nervous system paralysed with processing the horrible possibilities. This is so much worse than I could ever have dreamed.

Sitting on the edge of Ray's patio I use every ounce of strength not to give in to the barely restrained panic when something occurs to me, if this was such a cut and dried case why did Christian maintain surveillance on this guy? How did he end up on our perp list if he left months ago without a fight, leaving with a clear, albeit criminal explanation?

The uncertainty is enough to galvanise me into action. Pulling my phone from my yoga pants I dial Christian's number in a final bid to get some straight answers. When he answers on the third ring the weariness in his voice is proof enough that he knows why I'm calling, no doubt Sawyer tipping him off while Ray and I were chatting. "Hi baby."

"Hi yourself," I'm not at all surprised that my voice mirrors the tone he's just set. I hate that there's a telling quiet filling the airwaves between us, neither willing to give an inch but also desperately clinging to the hope that we won't be arguing. It's a jarring, confusing blend of emotions.

I let out a frustrated sigh, massaging my forehead with my fingers, praying that he understands how important this is to me when he finally relents, "You can't blame me baby, I was, am still terrified you'll run." His foreboding baritone is low, his heart wrenching insecurity where I'm concerned piercing but now he has me worrying about how much he hid from me.

"You knew about all of this?" the incredulous staccato of my voice must be harsher than I intended because his denial is almost instant.

"No, hell no! No!" in the pause I can actually hear his ragged breathing, his own apprehension preventing him from finding the words he wants to speak. "No." he says again this time more measured, calmer. "What Ray dug up was extraordinary. We would never have found that information if it wasn't for him but we had our suspicions that David wasn't who he said he was."

I hide my relieved exhalation; I don't want him to think he's off the hook quite yet. "So what didn't you tell me?"

"Baby I…" he stops himself, maybe for the first time grasping the magnitude of the situation. With a steeling breath he finally relents, telling me what I want to know, "I neglected to mention that he was our prime suspect and the lengths to which guys like him are asked to go by the corporations that employ them. We kept tabs on him from the moment he left GEH but in the light of today's revelations I now suspect that he knew he was being watched. This is not the first threat we've had to deal with, that's why our security is what it is. I'm well aware of what's at stake for companies whose livelihood I make redundant with our advances in cheaper, greener energy."

His choice of words doesn't go unnoticed, _neglected my ass_ but I don't dwell on it now. At least he's answered my questions though there's still something that doesn't add up, "When we've spoken about the perp in the past, about his profile, the personal nature of the attacks came up time and time again. If David really is our guy why not just get it over with, why make it so personal?"

"We were never one hundred percent sure, the personal nature of the acts lead to the addition of the other three names on the list but now it all makes sense. He made it look personal to deflect the attention from himself. It was too soon after I fired him not to be included as a suspect if something were to happen to me but if he made the threat seem personal then he'd be in a pool of suspects where he hoped to look the least guilty. Taylor speculated that he was running out of time with his employer so he had to get creative."

"I think he was shocked to get caught at GEH, he seriously underestimated our security system and because the whole incident was recorded and documented he realised that, probably for the first time, he wasn't a faceless criminal that could just melt away once his job was done. He faced a real risk of being caught by the authorities in spite of his aliases if we didn't get to him first."

"Do you know which corporation he's linked to?"

His wavering tells me he does but I wait for his confirmation, holding onto a terse breath and a badly fraying temper. I can only imagine him, pacing a ditch into the sumptuous carpet of the Fairmont suite, debating with himself about what to reveal.

"Yes." The simple, short answer is spoken with absolute finality, irrefutably clear that it brooks no comment or question. Instantly I get the message that he'll never divulge the who or when or how, at least not to me – too much risk involved if I knew.

I'm well aware of the fact that he can't see me but I nod anyway, unable to speak as the tight band around my chest pulls tighter.

After long minutes his tentative voice interrupts our brooding muteness, "Baby, please say something, I'm going crazy here."

"I'm not going to run, though I don't know why I keep mentioning it, you obviously don't listen." I hope he gets used to my newfound grumpy disposition because for the foreseeable future it will be marking every interaction between us.

"That's good to know Mrs Grey." The smile I hear through his words is testament to his need for constant reassurance but also his mercurial ways – how he even manages one right now I would never know.

As soon as he realises that my mood isn't shifting along with his he goes into comforting mode, "Anastasia, please listen to me. I know things are looking bleak at the moment but I've got it under control, you need to trust me baby."

Why do I get the sense that he's trying to tell me something that, for whatever reason, he can't spell out? Surely he must grasp how much that is to ask of me right now, faced with what we're facing I'm not sure anyone could.

"Do you trust me baby?" he urges, his voice ringing with uncertainty.

"I trust you Christian I just don't see how that's going to help us."

"That's all I'm asking Mrs Grey." While I'm pondering his cryptic message of trust he changes the subject. "That reminds me, just so you don't worry I won't be available from 8:00pm to 10:00pm tomorrow night, I'm being inaugurated into the Commission on Sustainable Development."

_Huh?_ "Okay." I draw out the word, perplexed.

"It's an international commission made up of various delegates that represent government, industry, business and NGO's to help advise future decisions on climate change, greenhouse emissions and sustainable development."

_Oh!_ "And you've volunteered to be on this commission?"

He chuckles, "No baby, you get nominated by your industry peers and then invited if you suit the requirements. It's kind of a big deal. I'll be in a much better position to affect positive change for our planet."

I couldn't ignore the note of pride threaded with subtle excitement even if I tried. I've forgotten how passionate he is about alternative energy sources and now, understanding the endorsement brings home how far he's come in his industry.

"Congratulations Christian, I'm proud of you." I mean it though it's hard to say knowing that it's that very excellence that's brought this threat to our door. I never thought of myself as an activist but suddenly I have the urge to wave a protesting placard in the face of some big corporation's CEO, maybe hug a tree in demonstration of the injustice of hunting a man who is only trying to save our home – _damn greedy bastards!_

"You are?"

His incredulous lilt takes me by surprise, _doesn't he know?_ "Of course. Always. I'm proud of you and I respect you. I thought you knew."

"You've never said." My heart aches at the vulnerability if his words, when you're as broken as he is those things aren't implied in _I love you_. I feel like kicking myself for never actually spelling it out.

"Well, now you know. I am and I do and I love you." I swallow against the rasp in my voice, betraying my shallow tears.

His gentle chuckle takes away the sting of my imminent eyes, "Are you sure you didn't steal that line from a song Mrs Grey?"

"I am Mr Grey," I say on a weak giggle. "Just made it up on the spot."

"I love you too, I wish you could come with me."

After an emotional goodbye we hang up and I head for bed, a million and one things reeling through my head to keep me in that restless state between wakefulness and deep sleep.

Friday morning I'm wearing my lack of sleep like a badge. Along with my sore muscles, achy from the vigorous workout from yesterday leaves me in a strange mood. Regardless of Christian's insistence that I trust him I feel empty and numb. It would be a pleasant change from the relentless fear if it wasn't so disconcerting to feel disconnected from everything.

I've kept myself busy answering e-mails from my mom, even a surprise one from Kate demanding to know what's going on. Any other time her straight shooting ways would have brought a smile to my lips regardless of how crappy I felt but not today. I answer her as best I can and hope she doesn't pick-up of my lacklustre reply. In no fit state to talk to Flynn I rashly cancel my Skype session for today, making myself a half-hearted promise to continue tomorrow.

Christian calls me on various occasions during the day but from my side our conversation is stilted. His efforts to cheer me up do little to lift my aura of disinterest and by the end of the day I have him exasperated with me. "What's the matter baby?" he pleads, desperation bleeding through his words. "I never thought I'd say this but I actually prefer you being mad at me."

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I guess I'm just tired." For a moment I ponder if this is what it feels like to have a nervous breakdown, so flat and uninterested.

"Mmhh," he muses, unconvinced. "Maybe you'll feel better if you could share my night with me. I've e-mailed you the link to the webcast that will stream the whole thing tonight. I should be up by around 8:30pm."

I make an effort to sound excited and I think I pull it off because he stops hounding me. In turn I insist on full disclosure of the security measures he plans on implementing for the night.

Ray mercifully takes up my slack with Chris and by early evening I feel guilty enough about my neglect to offer to make dinner. Around the table I barely keep my mind on the conversation, with both Ray and Chris needing to repeat things in order for me to answer.

Chris and I place a last call to Christian to wish him well before Chris goes to bed and I curl up with a book to distract myself, waiting for Christian's webcast to begin. I setup my laptop on a small, open corner of the dining room table, Ray and Sawyer both joining me to watch the proceedings.

As the candidates file into the Seattle auditorium I recognise a large number of heads of state and captains of Industry. I relax a little thinking that the security at an event like this must be tighter than a drum. A reporter on site gives a brief outline of the commission's tasks and explains that the formation of the CSD was a direct consequence of the International Earth Summit. The more I listen the more I realise that it isn't just a big deal, but a huge one.

The first real kernel of emotion blooms in my chest as I watch Christian, dashingly handsome in a bespoke black tux as he swears his oath. His expression is solemn, a testament to how seriously he takes what he does, how passionately he feels about helping hungry people and our precious planet.

I go from no feelings to a crushing swell of them, so overwhelming I have a hand clutched over my heart as it expands with it. _My beautiful, broken, brilliant man! _My longing for him acute as my eyes follow him stepping off the podium and to the left of the screen where Taylor waits to escort him back to his seat. Just a couple of seconds before we lose sight of them something obviously captures Taylor's attention. His head swings to the direction of whatever has his eyes the size of saucers.

I watch in horror as he turns his body in an effort to blanket Christian, driving them both into the ground. Because they're lying between rows of seats we can't see them anymore but pandemonium erupts in the auditorium with many close personal protection staff going into security hyper drive. Off screen we can hear shots being fired, shouting and then the screen goes blank with the snowy hiss of a broken connection.

"Nooooooo!" I yell at the laptop, my heart pounding a marathon in my chest, my expression beseeching as I look to Sawyer for answers that I know he doesn't have.

He wastes no time, hitting a speed dial button on his phone while pulling on a headset so his hands are free. He places an emergency call with the police then tunes into their radio channels to stay updated.

I can only look on. A debilitating mix of shock and dread runs rebellious in my veins, riveting me to the floor. My earlier concern about not feeling anything becomes redundant as every possible emotion related to fear bombards my brain at once.

The next call is to Brandon. I know only because Sawyer tells me so as he hits a second speed dial button to get hold of Taylor's 2IC. Ray bands an arm round my shoulder, pulling me close. Together we stare at Sawyer, willing Brandon to answer his damn phone.

After what must've been countless rings Sawyer hangs up, frustrated. The sound of the cordless handset slamming into the cradle makes me jump, effectively rebooting my brain. I shuffle over to the sofa to hug my knees to my chest, rocking myself as I try to hang on to the tenuous hold I have on my sanity.

With every effort Sawyer makes to gain some intel I hear the minutes tick by, settling an unbearable weight of worry onto my shoulders that only grows with every failed attempt. Ray does his best to comfort me, keeping me plied with tea and muttering about no news being good news but his words mean nothing when I see his own features distorted with concern, his body strung tight with tension as he paces past me.

Stubbornly my mind refuses to indulge in memories of happy times with Christian, like a defence mechanism protecting me from the painful possibility of losing him. _What happened, where is he, was the attack aimed at him or someone else, why hasn't anybody called us?_ I only seem to have the capacity to replay these questions in my mind.

Sawyer has every available news channel streaming in tiny PIPs across all monitors and the police frequency crackling it's static in the background. Even after three hours there were no mention of any events relating to what we saw happening at the CSD inauguration.

If I wasn't so caught up in my own world of panic I might have found that strange but my current mental capacity was not running at full tilt. I felt trapped in my useless body, unable even to cry as it continued to refuse my brain's commands.

When the tension finally coiled too tight I heard a snapping sound in my head, the ping echoing through my vacuous head before releasing a flood of supressed tears. I jumped up, grabbing Sawyer by his collar, desperation making off with my sanity as I yelled at him, "Why haven't we heard anything?"

Sawyer, bewildered by my outburst just gaped at me, his extensive list of expertise not including the skills to handle a woman going off the deep end while Ray stepped in to unfurl my death grip from Luke's shirt. Pulling me to his chest, I let out a gut wrenching sob, pounding his chest with my fists.

When I calmed down enough for him to let me go he pushed me back onto the sofa where I sat, nervously bouncing my leg, as agitated and unsettled as I've ever been. I almost screamed when we heard someone banging on the door but Ray's honed reflexes clamped a sealing hand over my mouth.

I caught his eye, nodding to indicate that I would keep my mouth shut so he could let go. I watched in horrid fascination as the two men drew firearms and communicated with each other via hand signals that I couldn't follow. Ray took a position behind the front door while Sawyer checked the monitor for a view of the front door.

The dramatic sag of his shoulders were soon followed by the holstering of his gun, "It's Mr Grey." The relief in his voice was tangible but to my broken mind, temporarily unfathomable.

By the time I began to process what he had said I was already wrapped in Christian's arms.

**Please be kind and review**


	38. Chapter 38

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**Chapter 38**

His heat, his touch, his scent all worked as one to bring me back to myself, to reconnect the drifting pieces of my sanity. I couldn't even muster the anger I should've felt for him leaving me hanging - maybe later – but for now this was exactly where I wanted to be.

"It's all over baby. All over." He repeated his whispered words, again and again until I felt it lift the cloak of heaviness surrounding me. His arms, like guardrails, at once reassuring and supportive - holding me, anchoring me, reminding me. I just breathed through it all, maybe for the first time in days.

As his mumblings sank in, my consciousness twined around it, curling, weaving, grabbing, trying to make it mine. _How could it be over? What happened? What did it matter if he was here? _I lifted my head, away from the steady thump of his heart, from the seeping warmth of his chest to find his gaze. I was desperate for the comfort of what he was saying but fear blurred the edges of my reality, I couldn't wrap my mind around separating the two.

"It's over?" blinking I could feel the cold moisture on my lashes, the wet rivulets along my nose, dripping off my chin. His eyes burned with a gentle light but his face was tired, haunted. I hated that he had to live through yet another nightmare and by the lingering shadows I knew it had been a rough one. He kissed the bunched V between my brows with a reverence that shook my foundations, my throat closing with the intensity of the moment.

His head dipped as he put his lips to mine, a gentle brush before he pulled away to measure its effect on me. "Yes," he confirmed; a slight curve of amusement tugging the corner of his mouth, tickled by my stupefied expression. Apparently pleased with my reaction his greedy hand felt free enough to fist in my hair as he adjusted the angle of his head before bearing down again, sealing his mouth over mine with unmistakable intent. My gasp let his tongue in, the invasion hot and smooth and firm. With skill that belied all rhyme and reason he slid that sleek wet tongue along mine, every motion coaxing mine to respond.

It was a searing kiss, one that left little doubt that we were both alive. I melted into him, growing languid in his hold as he took possession of my mouth, giving myself wholly to his tenure. I savoured the moment of submission, ravenously taking everything he gave without the burden of thinking or making decisions – I felt light, free. It felt right.

He ended our melding of mouths with a gentle tug, his teeth raking slowly over my bottom lip as he drew away. The earlier harrowed look was gone, replaced with a hooded satisfaction that was weighted with every ounce of his need for me. Only when his thumbs smeared away my tears did I release the gripped bunch of his shirt back I was clinging to.

Earlier it was shock but now it was breathlessness that stole the lilt of my words when I tried to speak. Looking into the depths of those imploring grey oceans I finally found the strength to talk, "What happened? We were so worried." The accusatory tone snuck in, the long wait for news too vivid and raw to supress.

His palms wrapped around my shoulders, pushing back to create more space between us so he could take a good look at my face. I was taken aback by his frown and his question, "What do you mean? Weren't you watching the webcast?"

Again I blinked, confused, "Uhm, yes of course but… the feed…" I could hardly string a sentence together, my brain still fried from the memory.

He shook his head as his fingers dug into my flesh, his frown only folding deeper, "What about the feed baby?"

I could only gape at him, my mouth opening and closing without will. Finally Ray stepped in, his baritone low, as if he didn't want to intrude in our moment, "We lost the feed Christian, the broadcast was cut right after we saw you and Taylor go down."

Christian inhaled sharply, confusion melted into horror, "Oh fuck! Jeez baby, I' so sorry! If I'd known… I would never have…" His words faded as dismay hit home. In a move a little too fierce to call a hug he roughly clamped me back into his tight embrace. His shock and regret lent credence to the anguish I just went through, at least I felt vindicated in my annoyance.

With that cat-like fluidity of his he lifted me, cradling me to his chest before setting us down on the nearby couch. I was only too happy to stay on his lap, curled into his vital warmth as he stroked my hair and apologised – repeatedly.

Sawyer handed him a cup of coffee and left tea for me within reach. Christian offered him a cup salute before he took a big swig of the velvet black brew. Ray did the same before pinning Christian with a serious look, "Tell us what the hell happened son."

He set the cup down, grimacing from the hot coffee. This close to his white dress shirt I noticed a smudge of blood on the opposite shoulder I was wedged against. The sight of it sickeningly real.

He shoved a hand through his messy hair then turned his attention to Ray, "Did you manage to see the shooter?" Even though we had heard the shots in the background the confirmation still made me wince, my body tensing as it responded to the horrible recollection. It earned me a tighter squeeze and another kiss on the crown of my head.

"No, we watched you and Taylor walking along the isle between the seats, something drawing Taylor's attention and the two of you going down. We heard shots, shouting and then nothing. Nada."

Christian stroked his chin with his free hand, "The feed must've been cut deliberately, I didn't know but I should've guessed. The UN would never allow the broadcast of a security breach like that. It would be an open invitation for all sorts of crazies to pull similar stunts to gain press for their causes. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if we couldn't find any trace of it on the net now. By tomorrow we'll see a heavily edited version of what happened in the news - if at all." He offered Ray a pointed look, implying Ray's grasp of vanishing sensitive information.

I watched Ray's lips thin as he nodded – he clearly understood. "You're probably right but hell, the timing left us hanging. I think your wife here damn near expired." The jesting rebuke was meant to bring some levity, he delivered it with a crooked grin but I could see Ray was making light of the fact that even he had been worried. I felt a surge of love and gratitude for my dad; he never let on, keeping his fears to himself to help me cope.

This time Christian directed his apology to Ray and to Sawyer, catching both men's gazes with solemn eyes. "I must apologise, I would have done anything in my power to contact you earlier if I had known."

"Sir we couldn't reach Taylor or Brandon either, I'd hate to land anyone in it but as I recall protocol dictated we be contactable at all times." Sawyer's ire was understandable, he must've placed a hundred calls over the last four or so hours, I had front row seats to his rising frustration with every ring that went unanswered.

I could feel the gentle chuckle vibrate in Christian's chest but he was rubbing at his eyes, exhausted. "No Luke, protocol didn't change but it was all such a fucking mess, a comedy of errors if it wasn't so damn serious. When Taylor took me down his phone skidded away, we didn't have time to retrieve it, Brandon's got smashed in the scuffle that ensued with David and mine is with the police, I had to leave it as evidence."

As one we stiffened at the mention of David's name but Ray picked up the thread, "So David was there? He was the shooter?"

"Yeah, he was there, the fucker." The bitter twist in his tone was telling, chilling. "I don't know how he thought he'd get away with it and at an event like that, jammed packed with the cream of the world's security." He paused, pensive for a beat as he shook is head. "He must've been under serious pressure to get the job done. He was in disguise, posing as one of the guests. The police will investigate but I'll bet anything that the real guest met with an untimely accident."

My stomach fell and rolled, _an innocent person might be dead because of this._ I couldn't help but wonder if Christian would end up nursing an unhealthy dose of guilt because of it.

Ray whistled through his teeth, eyes large and disbelieving, "So he just got up and took a shot at you in the middle of the ceremony? That's insane, akin to suicide under the circumstances."

Sawyer nodded his assent, a similar wide-eyed expression gracing his face, "Hell, they must've had something on him; that's a desperate man's actions," he confirmed.

Christian's head swung to Sawyer, "I agree; Taylor reckons he ran out of time - the meaty fee he was going to earn turned into a threat instead, maybe to his family. He panicked when he realised we were leaving and apparently decided it was now or never."

_Oh, we thought they were heading back to their seats._

Both Ray and Sawyer muttered expletives as they sat, processing the new bit of information. I nestled deeper into Christian's arms, shifting even closer. I felt him shiver when I pressed a kiss to his neck, breathing in his scent.

"So he took a shot, he missed and then?" Ray leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eager for the story's conclusion.

"Well, you can imagine, pandemonium ensued, everybody ducking, yelling. What must've been close to eighty close personal protection agents doing everything they could to protect their marks. It was crowded. No one had a clear shot, even if they could identify him. After the first shot he blended into the sea of bodies, all the men dressed in black tuxedos. It was almost impossible to pick him out if you didn't know who you were looking for." He took another sip of his coffee before passing me my mug of tea. I took a grateful gulp and listened to him fill in the blanks.

"Brandon spotted him. He circled through the crowd, approaching the perp from behind to relieve him of his firearm. He was clearly unstable, who knows how much damage he would've done so we needed to neutralise him ASAP. Brandon pinned his left arm behind his back but David put up a hard fight. He fired two more rounds into the ceiling, discharging his weapon in the fray before Brandon kicked it away and pinned him with a headlock. By that time every agent in the room had a hand on their sidearm and eyes on the pair them."

"David was yelling for them to shoot Brandon, that he was the perp who fired the first shot. I pried myself loose from Taylor's death grip to see what I could do to manage the situation - the last fucking thing we needed was some trigger happy secret service hero - but Taylor all but tackled me back to the ground." I could see his bafflement now as he thought of Taylor's actions but I knew he was only keeping his promise to me – honouring his vow to keep Christian out of trouble. It left me with a warm feeling, a swelling heart of gratitude.

"Fuck me," Sawyer voiced his incredulousness on a breath before remembering himself, mumbling a sheepish _sorry_ but no one paid attention, we were all too riveted to judge his colourful language - hell Christian could cuss with the best of them.

"I pushed myself back up only to hear another shot before the whole auditorium went quiet. Both Brandon and David dropped. When I saw Taylor lowering his service pistol, I knew that Brandon would be okay, Taylor would never have taken the shot if he wasn't certain of his target. Moments later we heard Brandon groan as he pushed David's slumping weight off his chest. It all happened so fast, maybe five or six minuted from start to end."

Ray slumped back into his seat, exhaling a slow breath, "So David is dead." It wasn't a question, merely an observation - we all knew Taylor's marksmanship was outstanding. "I'm surprised Taylor took him out. If Brandon had him secured and his firearm was out of the way he didn't pose a threat anymore."

Christian's expression turned grim, distaste so obvious you'd have to be blind to miss it. "I think he was thinking about saving Brandon then. Like I said if someone tried to play hero and took a shot they might've gotten Brandon. It was Taylor's way of eliminating the threat with the least possible chance of negative outcomes." He wore a sombre, sober look, weary and drained. In the back of my mind I recalled his dislike of firearms in general, _how did he feel now that one played a role in saving him?_

"And Brandon is okay?" Sawyer needed confirmation, the positive outcome something to hold onto in a profession where survival was sometimes tenuous.

Christian shot him a wry smile, "Yeah, he's fine, just pissed at Taylor for stealing his thunder."

The men chuckled in a shared moment of male-pride solidarity but it left me baffled. _Why would anyone want to get the opportunity to shoot someone?_

"So what did you do the other three hours and fifty seven minutes before showing up here?" Now that he knew the worst of the story was over, Ray slipped back into his usual measured ways.

Christian eyed him with a grin. Something unspoken passed between them, as if they both knew exactly what Christian was doing during those dragging hours. Awareness prickled at the nape of my neck, I hoped they weren't still hiding things from me. Christian shook his head again, raking his hand through his hair. "Jeez the red tape! You wouldn't fucking believe the pile of forms and crap we had to get through with the police."

Ray threw his head back, laughing heartily and I felt a surge of relief washing over me as I grasped their little insider joke. Ray despised the long reports that were always due after a mission. Now, he relished someone sharing the woes of the laborious chore that came with trudging through the red tape inherent to the public nuisance of a shooting, property damage and sometimes loss of life. "I'm sorry to say I do! I know exactly what you had to put up with." He rubbed at his leaking eyes, enjoying the mirth.

Sawyer, with his ties to the FBI, was also laughing as hard, "You've not seen anything! No one does bureaucracy like the FBI. Try what you did today in triplicate."

Both Ray and Christian were waving their palms at Sawyer in a _no-thank-you_ gesture, still chuckling. It was nice to see the men in my life smiling again but I couldn't bring myself to join their merriment. David might be out of the picture but the spectre of a big multi-national corporation that obviously wanted Christian out of the way still ate at my belly. I knew for sure that my stubborn husband would never let go of whatever project had them so rattled.

Sawyer's smile dropped when he clocked my unhappy face, instantly connecting with my unspoken fear. He cleared his throat with a cough that attracted Ray and Christian's attention, their smiles frozen as they looked at a now serious Luke. "Sir, I don't want to be the buzz kill but have you considered what you're going to do about the corporation that requested David's specific set of skills?" I knew he was euphemizing for my sake and under the circumstances I appreciated it.

We all stiffened at his question but in spite of the weight of it bearing down on my shoulders I was glad that he asked. Christian regarded him for a second, assessing. "It's not something I'm at liberty to discuss but in answer to your question, yes, I have and the issue has been…" he searched for an appropriate word, looking to Sawyer and then to Ray to make sure they were clear on what he was about to say, "resolved." I could hear the sound of finality on his tone, one that brooked no argument, no further questioning. After the length of two beats of a heart both men seemed to accept his vague explanation but a thousand questions exploded in my mind.

There was no way I was going to let that clarification slide but now was not the time to bring it up. Instead I focused on getting more facts, "So how did you get here?"

He banded both arms around me and squeezed; his appreciative groan low enough for only me to hear. "Baby, I couldn't stand another minute being without you and Chris. I took Charlie Tango and if it's all the same to you," he caught Ray's eye, "I'd like to take my wife and son home tomorrow." He landed another smacker on my head and I sighed with the pleasure of it.

Ray gave Christian a lopsided smile, "Be my guest, she's been mopey without you anyway." He winked, showing me that he was teasing.

I gave him a smile back, a little weak but at least I could crack one. I was so tired, more so now that this whole thing was over. I knew it was going to take me a while to trust the peace that was supposedly coming our way but I was grateful for the opportunity to try nonetheless. As if my body was agreeing I yawned, prompting Christian to stand up with me in his arms. "Let's get you to bed Mrs Grey."

Ray offered his double bed to us but Christian declined. He paused for a brief conversation with Luke about tomorrow's plans then headed to the bathroom. I wasn't at all surprised to notice the camera eye was already turned away. With a touching tenderness he slid me to my feet, turning my face to his as he cupped my jaw. "I've missed you Mrs Grey." His stormy gaze turned darker and I felt the familiar heat pool between my legs, melting, spreading as its flames licked at my skin.

"I've missed you too. So much." I let my hands journey over his shoulders, his back, settling on his firm chest.

His answering smile was dazzling and knowing at once. He stoked my cheek then ran the pad of his thumb over my lips before replacing it with his gentle mouth. "Baby, you're exhausted. Let me take care of you tonight, we can celebrate tomorrow."

I nodded, not quite sure where this was headed but whatever he had in mind I'd be with him. I couldn't think of a single thing to grumble about. Satisfied he smiled and flipped the tap in the shower. He stripped me carefully, reverentially before pulling his own clothes off in haste. When his erection sprang free my mouth watered, my tiredness vanished thanks to a rush of endorphins and desire.

He cocked a brow at my hungry stare. Shaking his head slowly he bit his lip, "Tomorrow," he purred. "Tonight, more than anything I just want to look after you. Please baby, give me this. Let me wash you. Let me hold you. I'll make it up to you, I promise." His fingers were combing through my hair, separating the strands. I could see the need in his gaze, could feel it in mine but there was no way in hell I was going to deny him a request that left me breathless with love for him.

I could do nothing more than nod my acquiescence, the tightening of my chest preventing the utterance of even a single word. I watched as relief flooded light into his gaze before he bundled us into the small stall. He washed every part of me, tenderly, gently, carefully. After the shower he dried my hair then brushed it out. His long, elegant fingers curled around the handle, his hands moving with long, sure strokes. It was blissful, relaxing in a way that had the recent tensions seem miles away.

The only thing he allowed me to do for myself, and even then it was reluctantly, was to let me brush my own teeth. I got the sense that he felt guilty, that his underlying motivation was to make me feel the opposite of what we just went through. To remind me of all that was good in our relationship, that it wasn't always burdened with dark threats. He wanted me to keep my association with him positive. To me it was wholly unnecessary but I could easily give him this if that's what he needed, especially as guilt was the last thing I wanted him to feel.

He slipped a big T-shirt over my head and pulled on a pair of boxers for himself. We tiptoed into my bedroom, careful not to wake Chris. I scooted into the narrow single bed, watching him as he bent over his son's sleeping form. He kissed Chris' forehead then buried his nose in his hair. It was clear that he thought of his deep inhalation as a cleansing breath, it made my heart soar to see that he could find such joy in his son.

When he slipped into my bed he wasted no time gathering me to him. Almost greedily he pulled my back to his front snaking his legs between mine then held on as if he needed me like he did his next breath. Combing my hair away from my neck, he dipped his face into the crook there. His nuzzling sent shivers skittering down my spine. I giggled softly when we sighed together, our shared joy brimming.

I lifted my arm, looping it around the back of his neck to keep him in place because his closeness was delicious but also, I wanted to show him that I was right there with him – feeling what he was feeling, revelling in our reunion.

"Please tell me it's really over?" The lingering fear let my words sound pleading. I was still too caught up in recent events to shrug it off.

"You know I'd never lie about something like that right - even to protect you?" I heard the hint of hurt indignation but desperation overrode my careful instincts just then.

"I don't think you're lying but I need to understand what happened so I can feel safe. It's too vague right now, too ethereal." I was ashamed to add that panic still consumed me, a constant reel of what-ifs replayed in my head, taunting me with their horrific possibilities.

"I'm not comfortable with you knowing the details of the deal I made, it leaves you exposed again. The less you know the safer you are. Is that not enough for you?"

Here I was trying to get rid of the panic but his denial only made it worse. Was it illegal? Did he pay them off? Was he capable of doing what they did to him, hiring someone to get rid of the threat to us? Judging by my train of thought, my emotions skittering off in a thousand directions and my drumming heart I knew that only the truth would do. "No Christian I need to know."

He dropped a line of kisses along my jaw, ending with a nip of my earlobe. "You are a stubborn woman Mrs Grey. Okay. Here's the deal. I'll give you some details but that's it. Don't ever ask me again or for more." The take-it-or-leave-it note rang clear and, without knowing just how much he would reveal, left me with a difficult decision to make. What if it wasn't adequate to lay the gnawing worry at rest but I supposed, it was better than being left in the dark entirely.

"Okay." I breathed my agreement but my heart's stammer wasn't easing one bit.

I could almost hear the cogs in his mind grinding out an abridged version before he finally started, "The project that had this Multi-national in a tailspin is a device that would have undermined their income the moment I released it onto the market. Taylor and Barney, by some stroke of genius intelligence work, managed to identify the directors responsible for contracting David. I then approached a major shareholder of the company and offered them the purchase of the patent for the device in exchange for firing the guilty directors. Without jobs and the millions to fund their dirty schemes they are well and truly out of the way."

_Holy shit that's cheeky…. And brilliant!_

"Wow. That's very clever." I said soberly, unabashedly awed by his incredible mind but more than that it made me feel so much better.

He pushed himself up on his elbow, leaning over me. His breathless astonishment was endearing and surprising. "Mrs Grey, is that a compliment? Have I managed to win your admiration?"

I giggled but my words were dead serious as I turned my head. We were so close, our noses almost touching. "Always Mr Grey. I've always been in awe of you. Thank you for telling me."

His breath hitched, his gaze searing as it locked into mine. His firm, chaste kiss would've bothered me if I didn't understand that he needed our time tonight to be about reconnecting emotionally after our shared trauma.

Long minutes passed, allowing a peaceful silence to settle over us much like the blanket that was covering us. Just as I drifted Christian whispered into the silence, "I watched you sleeping almost every night." The desolate image of him, alone at the Fairmont watching us sleep stabbed at my heart, making the ache of our separation acute even though it was only a memory now.

In the circle of his arms I turned my body around, chest to chest and ran the tips of my fingers over the sexy stubble of his angular jaw. "I think I could feel your presence with us, guarding us." The darkness of my room couldn't hide his vulnerability, I might not have been able to see it but I could sense it. All I wanted to do was fix it. I knew there was something he wanted to hear from me, something that would wipe the cling of it away but I didn't know what it was and I didn't think that he knew either.

The need remained nonetheless and I was determined to fill it. Mentally I went through the things I sometimes needed to hear to shake my ever present insecurities but nothing seemed to fit. How could I show him, if staying through this mess wasn't enough?

I woke with my mind still turning over the thoughts of Christian's lack of confidence where I was concerned but I couldn't ponder it for long. Chris was literally bounding up and down beside our bed at the sight of his sleeping dad. I could see it took everything he had not to shriek his joy. To encourage his silence I placed my finger on my lips then began the process of extricating myself from the vines of Christian's limbs.

When he tightened his grip around my waist I knew we'd lost him the opportunity to sleep in. The beautiful grey of his clear eyes pinned me the moment they opened. Chris saw me smile down at Christian, it was all the invitation he needed to proceed with his squeal and to jump onto the bed with glee.

The morning passed in a blur and the reality of us returning to Escala and the scene of the sniper attack only really hit me when Brandon opened the rooftop door to let us in. Christian greeted him with a handshake and a slap on the back but I went full tilt and gave him a big, grateful hug.

As if he sensed the tension suddenly rolling off me Christian took my hand and pulled me to his chest while the elevator slid silently to our front door. "It's all taken care of. You won't see anything out of place, nothing to remind you." He whispered his reassurance into my ear.

I nodded against the comforting firmness of his pecs, like him keeping words to a minimum in case Chris overheard. When we entered I was relieved that the dreaded wall of glass was frosted over and of course fixed. At least for the foreseeable future I for one wanted to keep it that way. Other than the memories in my head there was no trace of what transpired that day.

I was surprised to see Gail with Taylor as they made their way to us from the kitchen. I headed straight to Taylor, catching his bewildered look before flinging my arms around his neck - not giving a damn about decorum. "Thank you. Thank you." I mumbled softly beside his ear while I squeezed the life out of him, my gratitude making me a little over eager.

True to his stoic, reserved nature he patted me on the back, chuckling, "You're welcome Mrs Grey, glad it all worked out."

Gail and I both shared a moment, our men were safe and we were back at their sides. Last night Christian had arranged her flight to Seattle now that our threat was a thing of the past. I loved that he was that thoughtful even in the middle of his own winding down crisis.

The light mood, Chris' joy at being back home and the pinprick of relief I was beginning to feel made our homecoming easier in spite of what made us leave in such haste. That and my husband's incessant, subtle toying left me feeling way better than I expected to. Last night he promised to make our night of celibacy up to me today and he'd started the moment our day began.

Blazing looks, gently skimming fingertips, brushing lips, whispered promises and the blatant use of his stunning body against mine every moment he could left me with a burning, achy hunger for him that only hours behind a locked door would sate. Briefly I wondered if that locked door would ever again be the one upstairs. I could never complain about Christian in bed, whichever way he chose to take me was spectacular but I missed the kinky fuckery as long as it came without the whips and canes.

I didn't even bother to go to the spare bedroom I had occupied just short of two weeks ago with a heart full of hope and a contract that echoed our romantic start in so many ways. Instead I headed straight to Christian's bedroom and found my things exactly where I thought they would be, sharing space with my husband's. I stood in the large walk-in closet and took a few minutes to soak up the joy I felt might burst through my chest.

I emptied our duffels, mostly in the laundry basket then turned to leave. I don't know how I didn't notice it when I came in but at the foot end of our bed was a new piece of furniture - a huge padded ottoman with beautifully carved wooden feet. It was covered in a creamy fabric that looked like suede but was velvety soft. I ran my hand along the surface delighting in how the fine weave changed colour and patterning as I swept across it.

Christian's husky voice behind me made me jump, "Do you like it Mrs Grey?"

For a second I felt like I got caught doing something naughty but when I clocked his hooded look my flaming face had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with need. I straightened and flicked my hair back over my shoulders. "I do Mr Grey it's beautiful, very handy." _Yes, I thought, very handy for piling on that sea of decorative pillows that adorned his bed._ I loved the way they looked but I never knew what to do with the damned things when you actually wanted to go to sleep in a bed that looked like it could grace the cover of any interior design magazine.

His brow shot up, quirking with amusement, "It is Mrs Grey, especially the height. Very handy indeed."

I frowned my confusion, opening my mouth to ask what he meant when Chris called for his dad. Christian left me with a wink and a grin, the only clarification I got as he jogged out to find his son. I looked at the bench, cocking my head to the side as I contemplated what he could've been smiling about.

The rest of the day dragged by, treacherously slowly. I called my mom, e-mailed Kate with all the details as well as my neighbours in Savannah with an update and some heavily edited facts. I tried to concentrate on my book and the fresh stack of notes from Julie but my thoughts kept drifting to Christian and how I'd be benefiting from his mad skills in the sack tonight. My body was already humming in anticipation, sensitive to even the slightest of his expert touches.

When Christian insisted on putting Chris to bed by himself I raced to the shower to exfoliate, shave and moisturise. I slipped into a stunning set of black lingerie, low-cut, lacy boy shorts with a matching demi-cup balcony bra that covered my nipples only when I breathed out. If I inhaled my beasts swelled enough to have the areolas peek over the scalloped edge of the cups. _Mmhh_, I mused, _Mr Grey was sure to approve._

I wrapped myself in a flowing silk robe and made use of our plush new bench to lather my legs with a subtly perfumed body lotion. I was sitting on the ottoman, my robe open from the waist down as it pooled around me, some if it spilling over the side. It left my legs exposed with one foot on the floor and the other bent at the knee and resting on the top as I massaged the cream into the length of my leg when I heard him groan behind me.

"What a lovely sight Mrs Grey. I'm liking this purchase more by the minute." His voice was low and raspy, undeniably sexy as I felt the first trickle of moisture flowing between my legs.

I looked up, smiling but my lids were already heavy, fluttering slowly as the drug of his seduction took effect. I stood up, sashaying up to him, keeping my movements sinuous, graceful. The long robe fell around me, covering my legs but the two panels didn't meet in the middle, revealing a full-length slash of skin, broken only by flimsy bits of lace.

He hissed through his teeth, his desire changing his expression and bearing so dramatically that it made my knees go weak. I stopped in front of him, looking up at him though the veil of my lashes, waiting, watching, wanting. His hooded gaze grew darker, stormy as he smeared his thumb over my lips. "I think you owe me something Mrs Grey."

I nodded slowly, swallowing against the heady need drying my throat. I didn't know what it was that I owed him but there was very little I wasn't prepared to do for him just then.

His sinful mouth curved with a lazy smirk, "I think some penance is called for." He ran his index finger lightly down the column of my neck, down my chest, between my breasts until it reached the silk bow at my waist.

_Penance?_ My heart started a steady jog, pumping heated blood to all the places that craved his touch, filling and swelling the tissues that responded to even the sound of his voice.

As if he had all the time in the world and in sharp contrast to the urgent call of my nipples pebbling with the need to be stroked he drew the thin belt away from my body and out of the knot that held it in place. The gap between the two halves of my robe exposed more and more as he pushed first one and then the other side off my shoulders.

Gravity did the rest as it slid down my back, falling at my feet. I lifted a hand to drift over the bulging planes of his fully dressed body just as his hungry eyes were roaming mine but he shook his head, stopping me instantly. My lashes batted in surprise, my heart set off on a full sprint and my lips fell open, my shallow breaths urging the parting.

I knew he wanted me, the outline of the bulge in his trousers impressive as it was distracting. My teeth worried my lip as I wondered what he was up to. On a primal growl he cupped the back of my neck and took my mouth, nipping my lip away from my teeth so he could bite it instead.

To soothe the sting of his attack he laved across my lips, dipping his tongue inside just long enough to shatter my sanity, my body responsive enough to shudder in delight at the inadequate intrusion. "Don't you think the heart attack you gave me in my own boardroom, surrounded by my most trusted employees deserves some light retribution? You Left me with a very inappropriate hard-on to hide."

Too late my lust hazed brain registered the sharp angels of his shoulders, the tightly reined power, the hard line of his jaw. My densely packed, rushing hormones came to an abrupt halt when I realised that I was facing my Dom.

_Oh my!_

My jaw dropped, stunned. From under heavy lids he regarded me, his smile turning wicked. He cupped my chin then shoved his thumb between my parted lips. "Suck," he mouthed at me. I closed my eyes, hollowing my cheeks around the digit as though it was another appendage I was desperate to wrap my tongue around.

"Good girl," he rasped, slipping his thumb from the heat of my mouth. "Do you want to play Mrs Grey?"

His words streaked a flood of desire through my veins, easily doubling the pleasure-hormone load from before. My body betrayed me with an excited gasp; I almost bit a chunk out of my lip in anticipation.

He chuckled, reading my answer on my upturned face, "Always so eager Mrs Grey. Shall we see how you're doing?" playfully he raked the back of his nails gently over my belly, alternating with the tips of his fingers as he slowly, maddeningly travelled south. At the scalloped lace of my boy shorts he dipped his fingers just inside the edge of lace, rimming the panties to tease me.

I flexed my hands, desperate to touch him, hoping the torture wouldn't be too much. Already my whole being was aching to be filled by him. "I've got you, we'll take it slow," he whispered, addressing my unspoken fear. Then, in an effort to keep me off balance he shoved his hand over my mound, his middle finger drawing a perfect line down the length of my slit and into the yearning opening. I moaned loudly, my body convulsing at the spectacular pleasure and the sudden pressure of his touch. Again he hissed; sucking in a sharp breath, "Fuck," he gritted through his clenched jaw. "So wet, so ready."

A second later he smashed his mouth into mine, cupping my head with both hands to hold me to the violent assault of the stroke of his tongue. When we broke away we were both panting - hard. My body arced towards his, supple and ripe with feminine power in spite of his devastating dominance.

He blinked as if to clear the fog, "As your punishment for opening your sweet self to me during an important business meeting you're going to make me come first. If you please me you will get your reward. If you don't I will take you again for my pleasure alone." His words flowed through me like honey, soaking my panties, making me clench my thighs.

"Take off your bra," he barked, a new sense of urgency threaded through his command. He watched me slide the scraps away from my breasts, the slate of his gaze so focussed on the twin swells I could feel his stare. His departing grunt made me shiver. I watched his retreating back, wondering when I'll be rewarded with a glimpse of his fine, sculpted body.

When he returned I heard the first strains of Sade's Love is Stronger than Pride pulsing softly through the room. Christian was carrying my vanity table's chair. He placed it in front of me then dimmed the lights to a soft glow before discarding the remote control carelessly onto the bed now that it had served its purpose. I knew for a fact that every current action was intentional, meant to stoke a desire we could both get lost in.

x

"Sit," he pointed to the chair and I obliged without hesitation. From his pants pocket he produced a tube of lube that sent a blast of shock though my system. _Why would we need lubrication?_ He flashed me a crooked smile, knowing exactly what I was thinking but he didn't put my mind at ease. He held it out for me to take and I did, albeit hesitantly. "Remember baby, if you don't please me there'll be no pleasure for you."

I shut off my train of thought, straightening my back and nodded solemnly as I slipped back into character. With large eyes I watched him strip for me. He toed off his shoes and socks then lifted his t-shirt over his head. My eyes were glued to the hard ridges of his abdomen, fascinated by the dexterity of his fingers as they undid his belt and the button fly of his soft jeans.

In an effort to curb the garnering emptiness in my sex I clamped my legs together, hoping for a smidgen of friction to bring relief to the burn that presently felt insatiable. He shook his head at me in warning. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband he dropped the jeans and boxers to the floor before he kicked it away. This time my thigh clench was involuntary as I copped an eyeful of his glorious, straining erection.

"No!" he growled, "Don't push me baby, I **will** spank you." I wanted to voice my innocence, what was a girl to do when she was faced with all that virility but I bit back my words as he parted my legs, pushing them as wide as they would go to step into the space between them. He was hard as stone, throbbing with need as he brushed fire against my belly and breasts every time he adjusted my position on the chair.

When he was satisfied he took the lube from me, "Hold out your hand." Squirting a big dollop of clear gel into my palm he caught my wide eyed stare, "This is something new baby, just relax but don't come. Don't think I don't know you can tilt your pelvis forward to grind yourself into the chair." While he was talking to me he took a dollop for himself as well.

_Damn!_

Every single neuron I had was firing, my clitoris pulsing in desperation and it didn't help that Christian was equally turned on. I saw it in the heat of his stare, heard it in the grind of his teeth, felt it on the fevered flush of his skin as it radiated into me.

"Please Christian." I didn't know what I was begging for but I was doing it anyway, need obliterating inhibition.

"Soon baby. Take care of me and I'll make you come so hard your head will spin." His dirty talk only made me want him more.

"Rub the gel on me baby." If I thought I was wanton before, stroking the length of his thick rigid erection with slippery, gliding hands took me to a new level altogether. I could see the leash he had on his restraint shortening as his breathing grew ragged. That, along with his big palms, slowly, firmly sweeping across my breasts as he spread the cool gel over and between them was almost my undoing. I didn't even bother to wonder why he was putting lube on my boobs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice breathless, gravely. I didn't know and I didn't care, I was near mindless with the need to get to the place where I got mine – I could only blink my _yes_. "I'm going to fuck your luscious breasts now Mrs Grey. Push those beauties up and together for me."

Again I blinked, shocked but did what he said before I got myself into trouble. I palmed the sides of my breasts and pushed them together, eliciting a low groan from him. He bent his knees, fisting the base of his velvety erection and positioned himself between the bottom joint of my breasts. He thrust his hips upward, rocking his molten length between my squashed boobs, the tip of him almost hitting my chin. He drew back only to repeat the rocking motion, his hips pumping into the gap he forged for himself.

_Holy fuck that's so hot!_

He bent down, capturing my mouth in a heated kiss as he bracketed my neck with both hands. His thumbs rested on the frantic beat of the pulse at my throat as he licked into the slick, hot cavern of my mouth, proving that I did have to fight the urge to grind my clitoris into the seat below my ass. He broke the kiss to gulp some air. He threw back his head, keeping a hand banded around my neck as he increased the tempo of his thrusts.

I watched him, riveted while he pleasured himself between the dual swells on my chest. If I bent forward I could probably lick the plush crown every time it emerged from the crater I was creating, I wondered if he'd mind if I tried. He nodded at my silent question, his heavy lidded eyes and animalistic grunts the tells of his imminent release. I bent my head over myself to lick his glistening head the second it poked through the crease.

On a violent hiss he swore, "Oh fuck, oh fuck! Yesssss!" he ground out the words, racing to his finish with a severe shudder jolting through his body with enough force to rock me back on the chair. I felt the heat of his semen spurt sharply against my neck and chest, running down my cleavage. I was high on his undoing, revelling in pleasing him so obviously.

**Thank you for reading, please don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 39 to follow**


	39. Chapter 39

**Love the reviews as always, please keep 'em coming!**

**Chapter 39**

My body was on fire, my blood drumming through my veins. Watching Christian come undone was breathtaking and I felt more than a little confident that I'd be getting my reward because, as far as pleasure went, that looked phenomenal. Christian bends forward, cupping my jaw with both hands he pulls me up from the chair and into a sweltering kiss.

He poured everything he had into me as if I was an empty vessel he needed to fill. I tasted love, desire, but I also tasted caution. It reminded me of the question I went to sleep with last night, the same one I woke up with this morning. _How could I prove I was here to stay? _

One hand slipped from my jaw to my neck and down my chest, spreading his warm semen along the way. I got the distinct impression that he was marking me, claiming me to assuage his doubts. I obviously needed the light of his vulnerability to see the key that was right before me; one that I already put into effect without even realising what a valuable tool it would end up being. It was something I knew now, would verify the irrevocable ties I had to him.

Christian broke our kiss, directing his full focus onto me. "How are you doing Mrs Grey? Was that okay?" His gaze was searching, drilling into mine looking to see how I was handling our first foray back into kink.

With my short, sharp breaths, flushed cheeks and violent grip on his strong biceps I couldn't imagine that he didn't know. "Desperate for more, for you." I strangled out the words, desire leaving my voice thick as I blinked out of my lust fuelled haze.

His intense stare turned broody as he reached for a small towel he'd stashed on the bed. "I can empathise Mrs Grey; I can never get enough of you. If I could, I'd spend my days buried inside you." He looked down to prove his point, what was a semi after his copious ejaculation was now unmistakably ready for round two. Slowly he started wiping the fluid off my neck and chest, concentrating on the task. I was choked with the bleakness of his words; I hated that I could still hear the underlying uncertainty.

"I like leaving something of mine on you," he mused, brow knitted as he confirmed what I was thinking the minute before.

My moment had come, it was time to play my trump card, "There's something else you might like," I whispered, my tone playful as I prepared to give him the news that would hopefully shake his thoughts enough to alter his cautionary perception.

"And what, pray tell, is that Mrs Grey?" he purred, slowly backing me up to the wall. His hands resting on my shoulders as he steered. Mercurial to a fault his eyes were twinkling with a hint of mischief, his mouth curved with all the lascivious intent in the world. Any traces of solemnity banished to a compartment in his mind that he rarely put on show.

"I have something for you - or rather - I don't." I couldn't resist playing with him, teasing him with my delightful titbit. I had to employ the help of my teeth to curb the Cheshire-cat smile playing tug of war with my mock-serious face.

"Mmhh," he mulled, his grin widening as his eyes turned into a molten shade that sent fire licking at my centre. "I love getting gifts from you baby, but if you don't spill it I'll torture it out of you." He positioned his hands on the sides of my body, resting over my ribs, but I knew the stillness of them was deceptive. Those fingers could stroke with love just as much as they could tickle with merciless incursion - all at the drop of a hat. His light touch wasn't fooling me, not with the digits poised for torment.

Much as I wanted to continue teasing him my body was demanding the attention I knew was due me - as much from my earlier stellar performance as from what I was about to share. Besides, I had nowhere to go, trapped as I was by his large frame pinning me to the wall, his leg firmly lodged between mine. I couldn't help squeezing the latter with my thighs in a bid for some precious relief.

Christian played along, flexing his quad into my clench so I could grind my sex against him. With a knowing smirk, he found my gaze, fluttering as I gasped at the welcome pressure. His long fingers stroked my sides lightly, their tips a mere whisper on my skin - a maddening glide that was somewhere between sensual and ticklish. I moaned, forgetting myself for a minute.

I shivered as Christian added another layer to his onslaught of sensation. His ruggedly, stubbly chin made it into the crook of my neck. Judging by his groan he took immense delight in dragging the stiff, shadowy growth over my hypersensitive skin.

Goose bumps raced on the back of a shiver, all over my fevered limbs. There was no denying the sudden, liberal lubrication that's eased the grind between our joint bodies. My thrumming pulse was already a testament to my mounting pleasure, if this was his version of torture I'd take it any day.

He got a hold of both my wrists, securing them above my head and, as if he'd read my mind, he seized all ministrations as he mumbled against my neck, "You better speak up Mrs Grey, I can just as easily turn you around and see how pink I can make that pretty little ass." To add credence to his threat his free hand cupped my behind, digging his fingers into the soft flesh as he growled, in pleasure, in warning – I wasn't sure.

x

It did nothing to dampen my need, in fact, desire spiked along with the shot of adrenaline his promise drew. "Ahh," I mewled shamelessly. I licked my blistering lips, dry as they were from his kisses and my rapid breaths. I started on a hard swallow, "Your friend, the doctor that came to see me, Dr Blair?" My words were shaky with need, breathy.

"Mh-hm," he managed between the decadent licks his roguish tongue was swirling along a path on my neck now that I'd started talking again.

I hissed as he found a particularly erogenous spot below my ear, my body bucking into him. "I uhm…" He nipped my ear, the darting spike of pain clearing my head just long enough to finish my sentence, "I asked her to remove my IUD."

x

Christian froze, even his ragged breathing halted. In the silence I could hear my heart thump-thumping against his pressed-up chest and I was sure he could feel it bounding as it hammered against its bony cage.

When he spoke he did so with his head still buried in my neck, hiding his expression from me. "But you saw her last Saturday. You said you'd only consider it once the threat blew over." There was something in his tone I couldn't quite place, it sounded like fear but I was hoping for disbelief.

I had to wonder if he'd had a change of heart. The first tingles of unease skidded down my spine, "I know," I hesitated, "but I wanted to give you this. I wanted to tell you in person. Are… are you mad?"

He lifted his head from the cradle of my shoulder then gently brushed his lips past mine. "No, not mad I just shy away from anything that might drive you away. What made you decide to do that?" he let go of my arms, taking my face in his hands instead.

I cupped his cheek, mirroring his tenderness as his slate eyes snared mine but I stared right back. In that moment I let go of every shadow of uncertainty, every ounce of regret and every self-preserving barrier I had in place to let the love and sincerity, but most of all, certainty bleed into my upturned gaze, "This is why." I tried hard to ignore the stark, white bandage on his upper arm as I laid my other hand over the steady pound of his hesitant heart, "I want you to believe and feel and know that I'm here, in this, with you, for the long haul. No reservations, no doubt and more than anything I want to share parenthood with you. From the very start." My voice broke; the reminder of my guilt heavy, stuck like a lump in my throat.

I watched in fascination and a touch of dread as the emotions flitted across his handsome face until he finally settled onto one, matching the colour of his eyes with the intensity of the hopeful light that I could see dawning. His mouth split in two, the arc of his full HD beam as wide as it was joyous.

It was – hands down - the best angel-chorus moment. Christian speechless was priceless. I sucked in a relieved breath before offering him an answering smile but before I could his mouth sealed over mine, clashing. This kiss was something else altogether. He unleashed himself on me; that tightly coiled restraint whipping free, going for a rampage on my lips. It felt as though he wanted to climb inside of me, take me under siege, make us more one that we already were in our married union.

"Did you get a period once it was out?" he asked in-between the crazed fusion of our lips.

_Such a Christian question!_ I thought, almost cringing at the shocking intimacy but my mind was otherwise occupied, my inhibitions tucked into an inaccessible corner. "Yes," I breathed, my blush only darkening the flush of desire I was already wearing.

"That leaves seven days." His whispered words were urgent, spoken as he dipped in and out of my mouth with a frenzied passion.

_Seven days to what?_ I thought vaguely, too possessed by him to care.

"I. Can. Not. Wait." He growled, "To knowingly," he kissed me deeply before continuing on, "- deliberately leave my seed inside of you to grow." The rapid fall and rise of his chest was enough to tell me how excited he was by the notion and I thrilled along with him, happy to provide the glue that could mend our cracks.

With impatient hands he pawed me, brutally eager to feel every curve and plane. He was grateful and I took it all, nothing wavering as I held on, my hands fisting his hair, growing more and more desperate for my banked release. One calloused hand, rough as it rasped over my skin, speared between our bodies so that he could grip the top of my panties. A sure tug had them caught between the lips of my sex allowing the scrap of lace to give me the friction I craved.

I moaned – loudly, brazenly, the world falling away so I could concentrate on him and his mind-blowing skills. I was grateful for the support of the wall behind me when Christian broke away, half lidded and panting. "I want to taste you. I want you to come in my mouth."

_Oh fuck! Yes! _His filthy words hit my core with a blow, tightening my inner muscles in giddy anticipation. Already I could feel my orgasm brewing, building, every stroke and kiss charging it.

He dropped to his knees, wrenching off my panties with zero regard for the delicate lace. He fused his gaze to my mound, his level stare burning as much as his touch would. My head lolled restlessly against the wall as I mewled my impatience. Again my fingers sought the grip of his hair, wanting to force his mouth onto me.

"I need both hands free baby; you need to help me out." The low rumble of his voice was insanely erotic as he guided my hands to the sides of my sex. I could feel his freighting breaths tease me, hot and damp as he folded all but two of my fingers away then placed them right beside my glistening lips. I copied what he'd done on the other side so I was bracketing the swollen folds with both sets of fingers.

"Pull up and hold baby," he commanded and when I complied I damn near convulsed at the reveal, the tremble leaving my legs like jelly. My gasp was more like a pathetic whimper of need. They weren't shy anymore, hiding between my legs but voluptuous and plump, popping out like lips puckering for a kiss. Not only were they directly in front of his ardent mouth but in my full view as well. I could see the sheen of my arousal, the juicy centre poking through the cleft in spite of the fullness of the outer rounds.

_Oh my fucking my!_

We gaped at the view for a long minute; shallow breaths gusting before he tore his hooded stare away. Turning those molten pools onto me he watched through his lashes as he dragged the flat of his tongue along the length of my slit, so agonisingly slow it felt as though my skin was burning, melting. The sensation was astonishingly different, as if moving the nerves altered the way they responded.

"Aaaahh," I roped in a breath, something to help me survive the sensations lighting up the pleasure centres of my brain as it fired along my spinal column. It took that second to realise how ensnared I was, in spite of not being bound I was no more mobile. My back was pressed against the wall and my feet spread wide to accommodate Christian's kneeling form. There was no way in hell I was moving my hands and with his face buried in the apex of my thighs the only real purchase I had was to tilt my hips to increase the pressure of his ministrations but I doubted that he'd let me get away with even that.

Again he licked, starting with a tiny swirl of his tongue at the heart of my opening before sliding it up and up, the brief contact with my clitoris jolting as a sensual shudder rode me hard. His left arm snaked up my body where his fingers found the taut pike of my nipple, tweaking and rolling. I was close, so close as the sensations crashed through my body, everything converging in that demanding bundle of nerves that cooled the moment the blanket of his tongue swept away from it.

It was the maddening lapping, the contrast between the heat of his mouth and the cooling contact with the air, the view I had from my vantage point as he watched me watching him lick me, the tugging at my nipple and finally the leisurely finger he pushed inside, rimming just inside my entrance. I wanted more of everything but at the same time fearing the force of what I could feel breaking over me.

He groaned his delight before rewarding me with another long lap, this time gently suckling my clitoris into the wet fever of his mouth. He held it there, sweeping his tongue along the underside in rapid flutters while his finger, only first knuckle-deep, stretched and slowly circled the edge of my opening.

"Oh, oh!" my breaths stuttered. "Please!" I was hovering at the verge of a vortex of conflicting desires. I wanted to remain like this – forever - melting from the inside out with the sheer pleasure of it but I also wanted that pleasure to come to a head, to tear me out and away from myself with the blinding explosion I could feel was fast coming my way.

"That's it! Feel it baby, take it all," his throaty rasp barely audible above the pounding sound of my roaring blood before he applied his tongue again. This time in earnest as he doubled his tempo, the flick of his licks growing shorter, hot and focussed on where I needed it. There was nothing I could do to hold back the brusque stiffening of my legs and core when he switched the lazy stroke of his finger to a hard and fast pump.

The orgasm overtook me, like a full body spasm it coiled tighter still, curling in on itself then snapped with a stunning burst as I surrendered, letting it shudder through me with the force of a 1000V jolt. The earth shook then, quaking just for me as he drew every last contraction with a tongue intent on the cream of my release.

_Holy fucking hell,_ my head was indeed spinning but I had no time to dwell on it.

"That was fucking beautiful!" he gritted, already standing, his body pulsing with fresh need and I could feel him urging my legs to band his hips. With what little strength I had I lifted a leg so he could secure it around him. Swiftly, gracefully he turned and moved us to the new bench. He set me down on my bottom and again sank to his knees on the floor.

Instantly his earlier comment about the height of the piece explained itself. Our bodies were perfectly aligned for penetration, him kneeling on the floor and me on top of the seat.

He gave me a wicked grin, self-assured brow cocked as he took himself in hand, stroking. I sat back, legs apart and supporting myself on my hands behind my back as I took in his virile maleness, not for the first time marvelling at the fact that he was mine. He ran his plush head along the length of me, gathering all the glossy wetness and reigniting tissues that I thought would be sated after that shattering spend.

Around his mouth I saw the sheen of my lust, glistening in the low light. When he curled a finger to call me closer I met him eagerly, kissing, tasting, loving the feel of him now that I was able to scrape my nails over the ripped muscles of his broad back.

We groaned together as our tongues licked deeper, Christian's pushing into my mouth so I could take him as I knew he wanted me to take him with my sex. The prelude to the act ended with him issuing a hungry command, "Turn around, on your belly. Hold on to the edge. I'm desperate to fuck you now Mrs Grey."

His baritone, his demand had me scrambling to obey in an instant. I curled my hands around the side of the bench as I flattened myself onto the surface. In this position I was stretched out perfectly, as though the seat was made with my proportions in mind. My legs dangled off the end and I wasn't sure what to do with them as my hips lined up with the end of the seat. All I could do was straighten them, open wide and balance on my flexed toes.

Christian wasted no time adjusting me to suit his amorous plans. He gripped my legs from behind, just above my knees to spread me wider, careful not to strain my muscles that were still warm and lax from my orgasm. Gently he pushed until my legs were completely open, running along the line of the edge as they joined my torso on the padded top.

Silently I thanked my mom for the endless supply of Pilates DVDs she plied me with over the last two years, keeping me supple enough to hold what was basically a full split pose.

I'd be mortified if I wasn't so turned on – my sex utterly exposed, open to whatever he had in mind. It seemed that he was bringing the red room into our everyday lives in the form of innocuous pieces of furniture whose real purpose would be a secret only the two of us shared. The thought he'd obviously put into this one that was clearly custom designed for me, for us, sent the butterflies in my belly on a wild flutter.

The stretch of my opening immediately made it feel hollow, yearning for the fullness only his girth could give me but he was toying with us, withholding. His strong hands kneaded into the soft globes of my behind, fingers digging firmly into my flesh.

His husky tone melted around me, "You have a gorgeous ass Mrs Grey. I love looking at it." His words were almost breathless as he panted. I knew his stormy gaze was locked to the valley between my cheeks and all the delights it held there.

The slippery trickle of lubrication my body produced whenever he was near was now closer to a gush. His gravelly moan filled my senses as it reverberated through me. As his fingers massaged my ass, the movements skimming my clitoris against the seat below with maddening unpredictability, I could feel his thumbs on either side of my entrance - pressing, pushing, gently prying the sides away from each other. It was deliciously torturous, making me extremely aware of the growing emptiness that simply had to be filled.

"Christian! Please!" I begged on a high pitched plea, not caring how desperate I sounded.

He hissed his arousal but still he made us wait, always building layer upon layer of need, "What do you want baby? Tell me!" his gritted question came through his clenched jaw. I revelled in the fact that he too was hanging by a thread. His need made obvious by his edgy, frenzied grip on my butt, his hands almost shaking as they held onto a clutch of flesh.

"Please just fuck me!" I cried, almost sobbing with desire.

Christian's hands slid to the top of my legs, locking them in a fierce clutch to keep me in place. "Hold on baby, it's going to be rough."

I had no doubt that it would and I wanted it like that, hard and brutal was the only way to slake this consuming burn. He slammed into me, the force of his drive rocking me forward and ripping a hoarse scream of joy from my throat. I had no time to adjust to the intrusion, no time to think. His hips, pistoning, set up a punishing rhythm, his rigid column dragging over my rippling core muscles. Every pound rocked the extended bud between the lips of my sex, the relentless, even pace the perfect stimulation to get me off.

With my head turned to one side I could see Christian from the corner of my eye. He was magnificent, perfectly crafted. His head was thrown back, neck and shoulder muscles defined, roped with strain. If I didn't know any better I'd say his face was a mask of pain but I knew it was ecstasy as I felt my telling clench grip him with greed.

"Aaahh!" I heard him suck in a discordant breath before he demanded my release, "Come! Now!" His words were much harsher than usual, his restraint cracking under the might of his own eminent eruption.

Gasping and frantic we tipped then fell. Hurtling, unstoppable we shared a frenetic race towards a spectacular finish, pulsing and spasming together. His sweat slicked chest blanketed my fevered back as he collapsed over me, wrung out and heaving hard.

The weight of him on me was just what I needed, gravity grounding me again after the mind altering moment we just shared. "Wow," I blurted, a little overwhelmed.

Still out of breath and without missing a beat he bragged, "We aim to please Mrs Grey."

I laughed at his playful arrogance. Despite the veneer of jest, the sudden lightness of mood we knew, beneath it all, we were both deeply affected. For now there was no need to dissect it to death, the moment had spoken for itself. The return home, the re-emergence of Christian's Dom alter ego and the indelible decision to have another child was all dramatically profound and hopefully, the final, settling shift in our fledgling relationship.

I sighed, happily curling into Christian's arm when he rolled onto his side, pulling me into his spooning form. We lay quietly, both processing in our own way as a beautifully song filtered from the iPod, poignantly befitting for the moment - Underneath by Adam Lambert.

X

**Thank you for reading, please don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 40 to follow.**


	40. Chapter 40

**Dear readers, as always I thank you for your reviews.**

**Chapter 40**

Quand j'ai peur de tout: Patricia Kaas

When the iPod switches to a new song I'm only mildly surprised that it's in French. It's slow and sensual, so typical of Christian's eclectic taste. The change brings about a subtle shift in the glow our love making cocooned us in, providing an opportunity to disturb the ponderous silence that settled around us. "Can I ask you something?" Biting my lip, I hope my tone doesn't betray the slight jitters I feel broaching an "off-limits" subject.

He nuzzles into my neck, his stubble delightfully abrasive. The shiver chasing the sensation is a delicious reminder of the dual orgasms that just rocked my world. "Mmhh," is his sleepy reply though I know my question will probably snap him out of his lazy haze.

Wondering if I'm about to make a mistake I take a fortifying breath. As carefully as I can I think about how to phrase my next sentence so as not to give myself away. If he cottons on to my train of thought I'm almost certain he'll shut me off. "Don't you often do R&D on products that you end up distributing for free?"

Immediately he's wary, I feel his whole body stiffen beside me. _Damn!_ "What's this about baby?"

Turning in his arm I face him, stroking my knuckles down his sharp jaw. His expression is guarded now, almost anguished. He's forced my hand; I've no choice but to spill the beans. "Was the patent you sold the corporation initially earmarked as one of those free projects?"

Sighing, his lips thin into a line of displeasure, but it's surprisingly fleeting. In a swift, practiced move he rolls on top of me. One long fingered hand captures my wrists trapping my arms above my head. "Mrs Grey, are you reneging on our deal?"

He doesn't wait for my reply. Hooking his feet around my ankles he holds me in place even there. His torso is pushed back just enough to give his free hand ample room to tickle me. Mercilessly his fingers play over my ribs and under my arms, making me buck and wriggle, yelp and beg for mercy so hard my eyes are watering.

"No! Stop! Please! I… was just… I just wanted…" I'm laughing too hard, squirming too much to finish my sentence.

Finally he relents, playful smile slipping slowly. He's breathing almost as hard as I am, but he doesn't let go. His stare, like flint bores into mine, pinning me in more ways than just the physical sense. His whole demeanour turns serious, "I meant what I said baby, the less you know the better. I don't want you to worry about it anymore. It's over. Please, just trust me."

There's a plea there that I can't ignore yet I need this last little bit of closure. "I do! I trust you implicitly but I need to square it in my own mind before I can let go completely. How can I do that if there are things that keep bugging me?"

He rests his forehead against mine, shaking his head as he does. On a resigned sigh he relents, "Ask if you must Mrs Grey but think about it carefully. This is not up for discussion. Don't mistake my acquiescence for willingness. If I don't like the question there'll be no answer."

I swallow reflexively, more than a little intimidated by the appearance of the tone he usually reserves for business dealings, and I don't mean the fun ones. "I want to know if it was meant to be one of the products that you were going to release for free."

His smirk tells me that it was but he doesn't actually confirm it. I gasp at his audacity. You don't get much bolder than that – turning a profit from a would-be non-profit patent, probably earmarked for third world countries, in a situation that was meant to bring him down in every way possible. It's my turn to shake my head, admiration and apprehension coexisting in equal parts – _if that's the case we might still be at risk._

He narrows his eyes at me, "Why do I get the feeling that you're not done?" As always I wear what I'm thinking on my face. To him I'm an open book.

When my teeth graze my lip he groans, nipping it away with his own gentle bite. In that instant I lose my train of thought, my body responding reflexively to the distraction of his closeness with a rush of pleasure. Grinning wickedly, knowingly he runs his free hand all along the length of my outstretched arms and down my side, revelling in the tiny raised bumps his touch just brought to the surface of my skin.

Clearing my throat I blink back to reality, "Uhm. Yes." A rosy flush pinking my cheeks follows shortly after. My body's slavish response to him is nothing short of cringe worthy sometimes, so utterly without volition. With a little shake I clear my head. "Could they ever find out? Brilliant as your master plan is, do you think it's wise to risk duping them?"

Again he smirks, "Brilliant huh?" he drops a kiss on my mouth, lingering a little too long to call it chaste. "Are you worried about me Mrs Grey?"

Exasperated I huff, "Of course I'm worried about you! Not to mention our son." My eyes dart briefly to the patch of bandage on his upper arm, the scar that lies beneath physical as much as mental – at least for me. It will forever remain as a reminder of how badly things could have turned out.

Finally my words hit home, his face turning solemn. He lets go of my arms, sensing my seriousness. "No," he states, unequivocally. "Firstly the project was classified, David never got near anything remotely related to it. In fact, we've managed to find out that he was employed on a rumour. Granted it was speculation that threatened their company's entire existence but, until I handed over the patent, they never had any concrete evidence that it existed. Even if the few involved in the plot did, I never share my plans for these developments before we can gauge the full impact it will have on the environment."

No matter how well I get to know him there'll always be a part of me that's awed by his intellect. His ability to think outside the box, approach things from such extraordinary angles that it's impossible to replicate or predict. I should just go with it and learn to trust his instincts, be content to bask in its brilliance. "You really did think of everything," I breathe, eyes wide.

"I had a lot to lose." His quiet reply speaks volumes. It's stark, laden with his feelings for us and I can't help feeling it tug on my swelling heart. Lifting my head I run my nose along his, copying his trademark nuzzle to show him I share his sentiment.

I feel his mouth broaden as his lips brush over mine in a smile. Resting his upper body on his forearms, right beside my shoulders, his hands have access to my spread locks. Tenderly he sifts the strands through his fingers before he cups my head, both thumbs resting on my temples. "You saved me again," he whispers, avoiding eye contact as he stares at the tangle of his hands in my hair.

I frown, confused, my pulse leaping nervously at the two thoughts that bleed into my consciousness with his cryptic words. As always my guilt is at the forefront but I dread, more than anything, his self-loathing and doubt. I was banking on the promise of another baby to smooth our way forward.

When I open my mouth to speak his sombre tone halts my words in its path with another one of those explanations that steals my breath. "You coming into my life so unexpectedly was probably the game changer for us in this fiasco."

_Huh?_

Once he feathered a row of butterfly kisses along my hairline he turns his earnest gaze to me, the slate of his fusing our stares. "The moment I ran into you in Miami my whole routine altered. Everything David thought he knew about me, my whereabouts and my daily pattern changed. That coupled with my unforseen trip to Seoul and our impromptu wedding – the fact that it was away from home - was what really sent David's plans and timing to hell. It forced his hand. He became desperate enough to make the mistakes that led to his downfall."

"If it wasn't for you and your contract, Kate chewing my ear off for leaving you hanging, your date," rounding his eyes he spits out the word _date_, giving me a dubious glare, no doubt questioning my judgement where every other male on the planet is concerned, "and your confession to Shawn we wouldn't have gotten married so soon and we would've continued to underestimate the threat against us."

_Holy hell!_ My widening eyes blink up at him, astounded.

This time he kisses the tip of my nose, "So you see Mrs Grey, saved by you again."

I don't know what to say, there's no way I can take credit for what happened, but I can't fault his logic even though I didn't plan any of it that way. I say the only thing I can under the overwhelming circumstances, "I think we saved each other Mr Grey."

His watch darkens, the intensity burning deeper. Stroking my hair away from my face he breathes, "I'm so fucking grateful you and Chris are both safe and here with me. If I think about what could have happened if he got into your apartment in Savannah…" His words fade out with a despairing shake of his head.

Gentle as he's being with his carefully chosen words I understand what he's trying to say even though he's doing his best not to. Either Chris or I could have become disposable pawns in a dangerous game of greed and blackmail. I can never allow myself to think about that alternate ending and I don't want him to dwell on it either. He doesn't need any help in the overprotective department.

Returning his caress I slide my fingers through his hair, searching for something meaningful enough to stop him from getting stuck in the emotional quicksand of perpetual what-ifs. "But it didn't. You kept us safe, you kept your promise."

His smile is grateful but unconvincing, the possibility of something like this happening again thick and unspoken between us.

XXXXXXXX

Sunday morning brings with it the intimacy of family, of being together, and hopefully the start of settling into a life together. Waking up I find my tousled self in an empty bed, listening to the beautiful strains of Christian's piano. Once I've slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a strappy Tee I go in search of my family.

What I find is surprising as it is touching. Chris, seated on Christian's knee behind the tinkling instrument, is spellbound. His rapt attention glued to his father's nimble fingers as they dance over the white and black keys. Christian's song choice is obviously a winner; I've never seen Chris sit so still.

Flight of the Bumble-bee - Rachmaninov

Looking up Christian gifts me with a panty melting smile and a wink that shouldn't make me tingle in so many places, but my son, at least for now, is lost in the music. I love that they've found something to share. It feels so normal, so right to head for the kitchen and start breakfast with the two of them in my line of sight and so obviously happy. I can't help imagining how a fourth little life would fit into the picture.

Fully aware that I'm getting ahead of myself I imagine the different scenarios – will it be another brother or maybe a little girl? Standing here, fantasising about our lives, our future, I can't for the life of me think why I was resistant to the idea at first.

Over breakfast Chris is animated, so excited about his dad's musical skills that we end up discussing the possibility of lessons. You'd have to be blind not to notice Christian's beam of pride. I get the feeling that we'll be seeing a piano tutor here by the end of the week.

After breakfast we move to the great room. Father and son throw themselves into building a model train set that used to be Christian's when he was a boy. The low coffee table is soon criss-crossed with tracks, tiny trees, little grassy hills and small stations dotted along the rails while I'm ordered to the couch with the laptop to look through schools that Christian has already shortlisted for Chris.

The first four schools leave me deflated. I can understand that Christian would only want the best for our son but they seem so impersonal, almost clinical in their approach to learning. Browsing through these inappropriate choices it starts to dawn on me what Christian meant all the times he said that he never had to justify himself to anyone. For so long I've been solely responsible for all the parenting decisions concerning Chris. To suddenly have to share them, even defend them if for some reason we don't agree is a little daunting. I hope this won't be the first instance where we'll be at odds with our preferences.

In the final one I find something that seems to have the things I value in a school - a good mix of discipline, a caring learning environment and the state of the art facilities that obviously impress my overachiever husband. I fill out the electronic form, expressing our interest in being invited to the school for an interview. For a moment I worry about the very late application but when I mention it to Christian his arrogantly quirked brow teamed with his crooked grin puts an end to my fretting.

Of course, the Grey name will open doors regardless. As always the immense power that I'm privy to just by being attached to him leaves me feeling uneasy, undeserving of the privilege that I've done nothing to earn. Reminding myself of the promise I made to embrace every aspect of his life I fight down my feelings of inadequacy. His power and wealth is certainly a very large part of who he is, at least to the outside world.

I work through my e-mails, easily keeping up with the banter between Chris and Christian as they race their trains. I whoop with Chris when team mommy & son win the first race, winking at Christian's pouty face. Even when we discuss our work week schedule, in-between the racing trains, Christian surprises me by being very amenable.

"Why don't you go into the office and have a face-to-face meeting with Julie? I'm sure the two of you have lots to discuss. If you want we can set up an office for you at Grey Publishing," he suggests casually, seemingly unperturbed by an idea that used to drive him to distraction. Despite our resolved threat I realise I was fully prepared for a serious negotiation about how and where I'll be working from. His suddenly easy-going compliance on a previously prickly matter piques my interest.

"Okay," I agree carefully, looking at him through slitted eyes. "And Chris? Can I take him along?"

Not meeting my suspicious frown he focusses instead on adjusting a wheel on one of the tiny trains with a screwdriver. "You can but he might get bored. Why don't you leave him at our new day care centre? I believe they run an excellent preschool programme."

My gasp betrays my surprise, "You have day care at Grey Publishing?"

He scrubs the back of his neck, failing to hide his sheepish expression. Grinning that lopsided grin he finally meets my astounded blue gaze. "Uhm. Yes. I thought it would be convenient for you."

_He started a day care centre just so I could leave Chris there?_ Just as the astonished question pops into my head I berate myself for thinking anything less. _Of course he did!_

"Oh. Okay, I will. Thank you. That's incredibly thoughtful of you. Will you keep it going next year when he goes to school full time?"

His head jerks back, almost doing a double take, "Absolutely. You might need it during school holidays and when… uhm," he cuts his gaze to Chris, uncertain for a beat. Meaningfully he widens his eyes, staring at my belly before finding my gaze again. "You know… when the other one comes, plus the staff like the idea so…"

I sink my teeth into my lip to hold back my giggle but I can't stop the corners of my mouth inching upward. I place my hand over my heart in a grateful gesture. After mouthing him a silent _thank you_ I blow him a kiss.

Christian responds with a beaming smile, as though he just received the highest praise, almost glowing with joy at my response. I get a fleeting impression of him as a little boy, eager for my approval.

Encouraged by his mood I try to push my luck, "So do I get to drive to work or will you drop us on your way?"

I swear I can see a red tinge around his ears when he darts his look back to the carriage in his hand. "Uhm… No. You'll come with me. Taylor will drive us."

I suspected as much and find that it doesn't faze me in the least but I can tell there's more to the story. Looking up when I don't reply he clocks my perplexed look. He breathes in - deeply - then faces me squarely, "I've moved Grey Publishing to the GEH building." Drilling me with his deep grey stare he searches my face for a reaction.

_Easy compliance my ass!_ Chris and I will be close to him all day, in his domain where he's in full command and able to watch our every move. I issue a nervous giggle, shaking my stunned head, "You've started a whole day care centre and moved an entire company just so you can keep tabs on us? When did you decide to do this, when did you have time?" the rising staccato of my voice is well beyond my control, shock amping it into a squeak.

"Yes I started the day care and moved the publishing division but not to keep tabs on you. I just want to keep you safe," he acknowledges, a tad defensively. "I did it when I decided that Grey Publishing would be taking you on and I hired Julie. And that's the beauty of well paid staff, you tell them to do something and they do it."

_How could I forget?_ It didn't matter that I had a deal with another company, Grey wanted me and Grey got me, in every way. None of this was ever up to me. No wonder he was so agreeable on me returning to work. _Talk about overbearing!_

Truthfully I don't actually mind but what I do object to – again – is not being told and it coming out in this roundabout way. What's at the heart of this matter troubles me most. Is it concern for our physical safety or does Christian still have lingering doubts about the endurance of my commitment?

Before I can open my mouth to start arguing I shut it. Even if it's a bit of both, I reason with myself, would it kill me to just accept it? If he needs to keep an eye on us to feel in control can I simply accede and give him the peace of mind he obviously hankers after? And maybe if I stop complaining about not being told he'll be more willing to share if he didn't have to risk facing my ire every time.

With a deep, steeling breath and self-satisfied smirks from my inner girls I offer him a smile, sincere and wide. "Okay. That's fine and yes, I would love an office to work from. Thank you."

It doesn't happen often but when I render him speechless it's exceptionally satisfying. I supress a giggle at his astonished expression before he schools it back into passivity. "Okay," he agrees, nodding as though he fully expected me to comply so readily. "An office on my floor?" the hopeful gleam in his expectant eyes almost have me caving but in an effort to maintain what little independence I'll have from him at work I decide to distance myself from him, at least physically.

Smirking to let him know I'm onto his game and to soften the blow of my refusal, I reply tartly, "No thank you Mr Grey. With the other minions will be fine thank you."

Pleased with how accommodating I've been I ponder our growth as a couple while I sift through the rest of my e-mails. If I think back to how I always met his unreasonable demands with harsh and brutal refusal I can see how I only made matters worse.

Both Chris and Christian's heads swing my way when I squeal in response to a new mail in my inbox. Clapping my hands together I bounce on the couch, "Yay! Kate and Elliot will be here by next week!"

Christian does a double take, "Really? That's great!" he confirms, looking genuinely pleased. "How long are they coming for?"

"She doesn't say. Seems like they just want to touch base with us after everything that's happened."

Christian nods, understanding that I can't elaborate with little ears around. "I'll get in touch with Elliot. Maybe we can all take The Grace out over the weekend." Careful not to disappoint Chris in case we can't go I don't miss the fact that he says The Grace instead of sailing. He had to cancel that trip once before, clearly he doesn't want to let his son down again.

"Is she, uhm, well again?" I ask, referring to the vandalism she endured, probably at the hands of David.

"Uh-huh," he chirps, "good as new!" I can't help grinning at his obvious joy – _boys and their toys._

XXXXXXXX

Though I love Gail and Taylor I'm grateful that we've had the morning to ourselves to bond as a family, even more so now that we've slipped into life at Escala without too much upheaval. I can't deny that I was apprehensive about living in the apartment after what happened.

I'm adding the finishing touches to a large salad when Christian comes up behind me. Wrapping his arms around my waist he kisses my temple before his lips brush past my ear, "Six more days baby," he whispers as he splays his large palm over my belly.

I giggle, enjoying the delicious tingles darting down my spine. A bubble of sheer joy bursts through me, his excitement about the prospect of another baby thrilling and infectious. "You have to manage your expectations Mr Grey. I might not fall pregnant right away. It may take months before it happens."

He snorts, "The last time you fell pregnant on a birth control shot. I'm confident that I'll nail it the first time."

He winks at me when I turn in his arms, his self-assured grin cocky. "You'll nail it?" I say laughing. "You do know it's not entirely up to you right? Mother Nature plays a fairly large part in all of this." I make a general, sweeping motion with my hand then slip them into the back pockets of his perfectly fitting jeans. With a little squeeze I nudge him closer.

"Pfft Mother Nature," he dismisses, still smiling. Over my shoulder he looks to find Chris. Ensured of our privacy he bends his knees just enough to grind his hips into mine. My eyes close as I gulp a large breath, sensation flooding and tantalising me. Just as he leans in to kiss me the intercom buzzes.

Chris jumps up at the sound, racing to the foyer he whoops as he goes, "They're here! Come on daddy!"

The kiss I end up getting is way too brief. He runs his nose along mine, "Later," he breathes, coming away from me with a wry smile. Turning he follows his excited son to the door to meet his parents and sister.

After a round of emotional hugs Grace and Carrick follow us to the kitchen while Mia skips away with Chris to the great room and the train set. I smile at his non-stop chatter as he regales his favourite aunt with the news of his adventures since the last time she saw him.

"Would you like some coffee?" Christian asks loud enough to include Mia.

I join Grace and Carrick at the breakfast bar as they convey their various coffee preferences to Christian. Again I feel him behind me as he wraps his hands around my upper arms. "And some tea for you Mrs Grey?" he offers before dropping a kiss on my head.

I turn my head to catch his gaze, offering him a grateful beam, "Please Mr Grey. That would be lovely."

With Chris out of earshot Carrick wastes no time to delve into the happenings of the past few days. "The news has been very thin on your event son. I guess the UN really does have the reach to contain something like this."

I know that both Christian and Taylor have been monitoring news about the inauguration drama closely. So far the information surrounding the event remained sketchy, only mentioning that an attempt to disrupt proceedings was thwarted. From what Christian explained to me I understood that if the story didn't break today, in the Sunday papers with their high circulation, it wasn't likely that it would at all.

Christian meets his earnest watch, "Yeah dad," he agrees thoughtfully. "Frankly it's been a relief to have it managed so well. The press fallout alone would have been a helluva' pain to handle."

Carrick nods, his eyes falling to the counter in front of him. When I spot Grace's hand covering his with a firm squeeze I realise that he's fighting to control his emotions. His gaze cuts back to Christian, a shiny film of sentiment glazing the normally sharp blue hue of his stare. "Jeez son, this idiot came way too close for my liking." His raspy tone only serves to underscore the heavy investment of his feelings.

Christian drops his coffee-making duties. In two strides he reaches the edge of the counter, facing his father. "I know dad. Trust me when I say it's sorted." He rests his hand on his dad's shoulder and Carrick doesn't hesitate to pat it. Nodding again he lets go of a slow breath, looking intently at his son. "Okay. I trust you to know what's at stake." The slight jerk of his head in my direction makes my cheeks sting with the heat of a blush.

Before I have time to wonder if it's a veiled reference to my past mistakes Grace interjects, "Christian would never forgive himself if something happened to you or to Chris," she explains, effectively quelling my rising guilt.

I give her a weak smile, all too familiar with these anxious feelings of late - we couldn't live without him either.

Carrick scrubs his large hands over his face, exhaling loudly again. With a renewed smile he looks to me, "Sooo, good to be home again huh? How is the little champ holding up?"

I make every effort to return his jovial tone, relieved at the switch in mood, "It is good to be back and Chris is a real trooper! I suspect he'll be starting piano lessons shortly." I know the smile I throw Christian is doting, but I can't help myself.

"That's fantastic Ana. A martial art, an instrument and a language – that's what I insisted on for my three," Grace quips, obviously proud. "Well until one of them got to the age where she refused." With mock anger she pins Mia with a playful glare over her shoulder.

Mia giggles, "If you can't wear heels doing it, it ain't worth doing!" she teases, referring to her lack of interest in the martial arts.

We all chuckle at the image of Mia in a Judo outfit, teamed with a towering pair of Louboutin's when Grace interrupts with an excited "Oh! I have news!" clasping her hands together she gives me a broad smile. "Ana, you remember Shawn O'Reily?"

I risk a quick glance at Christian where he's still bent over the café-style coffee machine making froths for the Lattes. With his back turned to us his face is hidden, but I see a distinct stiffening in his demeanour as he straightens his spine. "Dr O'Reily? Yes, I remember him," I answer carefully, keeping an eye on my husband.

"Well, I know he approached Christian about his plans in the past so I'm not sure if he ever mentioned it to you but Shawn had this wonderful vision for a centralised warehouse to hold the resources that the various aid agencies collect in order to cut the bureaucracy that goes hand-in-hand with distributing these things but he's always lacked the funds."

Still wary of Christian's reaction I only nod, recalling his moving speech at the gala dinner and afterwards, on the balcony, when he shared his idea with a little too much passion.

"I'm pleased to say that he got full funding for his project! Apparently from a very generous donor – anonymous of course so, he left for Africa last week. For good I would imagine!"

"Wow that's great," I muse, not overly excited because my mind is working at a hundred miles a minute processing this bit of information. "That's a big chunk of change for a single donor or was it from a corporation?" I ask casually, noting the absence of Christian's commentary on all of this. His silence is especially unusual considering he has a deep and passionate commitment to the third world and its plights.

_Mmmhhh…._

"That's what makes it so special. Not only was it a single donor but it was a private donation!" she's practically gushing, eyes bright with excitement.

"Wow," I affirmed again, "that is very generous."

Just then Christian turns with two coffees in hand and a tight smile in place. "That's great news mom. Please pass on our congratulations."

Even Grace looks at him quizzically, surprised by his disinterest as he slides her cup across the counter. I, on the other hand, have a very good idea why he's acting so indifferent. I'm almost certain that Christian is the generous donor, conveniently killing a few birds with one stone. He would be helping a cause that's very dear to him, get rid of what he might perceive as a romantic threat and smooth the way with Shawn if he considered laying charges for the punch Christian threw at him.

No wonder Christian refused to tell me why he wasn't a threat when I brought it up, absolutely dismissing him as a candidate for our list of perps. I must admit that it's a pretty solid plan but I'm burning with curiosity – what on earth did it cost him?

**Thank you for reading, please be kind and review**

**Chapter 41 to come**


	41. Chapter 41

**Thank you for your precious reviews, it's always inspiring to hear from you.**

**Chapter 41**

Carrick seems oblivious to Grace and my careful scrutiny of Christian, smoothly he starts on a new topic just as I wanted to probe a little deeper. With a quick glace in my direction Christian answers his father's question, obviously eager to change the subject.

Grace and I slide off our chairs to join Mia in the great room with Chris, and instantly the talk turns to Kate and Elliot's visit. Mom and daughter seem equally excited about the visit and it's easy for me to get swept up in it. I know I'll be facing some hard Kavanagh questions before all will be forgiven but I'm pretty sure I'll have my best friend back before long.

"Do you think they'll consider starting a family soon?" I ask, making conversation but also a tad curious. Kate will make a wonderful mother but I realise that I don't know Elliot well enough to know if he would want children.

I catch a look passing between Mia and Grace, both of their faces growing sad. Grace takes it upon herself to explain when I tilt my head to the side, my brow creased with a perplexed frown. "Oh Ana," she sighs. "I've forgotten that you've not had much contact with her. They've been trying for almost two years now. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they'll be seeing some fertility specialists while they're here."

My heart aches for my dear friend. The love, the joy that Chris has brought me, not to mention our families is something every woman deserves. Now I feel selfish. I've been so wrapped up in my own problems, what little time we've spent talking has been about our threat and coming to terms with married life again. Not once did she mention her own burden. Reaching over I squeeze Grace's hand. The fact that she went through the same struggle, eventually adopting three children, makes my heart constrict in my chest.

"Hey, why so glum ladies?" Carrick inquires as he and Christian take up their seats on the long sectional couch. Not wanting to sour the mood any further I offer him a bright smile; "Nothing, just girl stuff. You know," I bat a playful hand at him before pushing to my feet. Christian gives me an odd look but Carrick is too distracted by Chris climbing onto his lap to take any more notice.

"Mia, do you mind applying those cheffy skills of yours to my salad?" I coax, beckoning her with a wink to come to the kitchen with me. I haven't forgotten our conversation on my wedding day, and I can still see that lingering sadness clinging to her in spite of her efforts to appear happy. It makes me more determined than ever to get behind her sorrow and start working on getting her back to her old spunky self.

"Sure Ana," she agrees, jumping up a little too eagerly. I hope it means she's ready to talk.

We leave the remaining Grey's in the great room and head to the kitchen. She takes an apron from me while looking over the large salad platter I have sitting on the counter. "That looks yum, what are we doing?"

"I was thinking chicken salad and a warm, crusty bread. Will you grill the chicken breasts on the skillet? I'll pop the bread in the oven and finish chopping the garnishes."

"Perfect," she smiles looking over her shoulder as she expertly adjusts the stovetop knobs to her liking. "How about some wine for the chefs huh?"

"Of course, chef's prerogative!" Giggling I turn to the fridge, "White or red?"

"White will go well the chicken," she suggests, scrunching up her cute nose.

Once I hand her a large glass of chilled Chardonnay and pour one for myself I take up the counter space beside her, close enough for me to hear her chatting over the sound of the sizzling meat.

I'm pleased when she starts almost immediately but unfortunately it's not about herself, "It's been a rough couple of weeks for you. How are you holding up? Is my brother looking after you?"

I can't help but grin thinking about my overbearing husband and all the ways he showers - or is that drowns - us with affection, "Yes, it's been rough but it's over now and I think Christian is pathologically incapable of not looking after us, whether we need it or not!"

She giggles at my barking laugh, "Yes I can only imagine!" Laughing with Mia I get a glimpse of the girl I used to know but she slips away after a second, almost as if she reminded herself that she's not allowed to be happy and the sudden silence between us turns loaded.

Perturbed I look at her. Even in profile I can see her hurt but she keeps her eyes glued to the grilling breasts, shutting me out. "Mia? Please talk to me. Is there anything I can do?"

Her lips curl into a wry smile but it leaves her beautiful eyes cold, "I don't think so Ana. That ship has sailed and I missed the boat," she snorts sarcastically, jerking her head back. Apart from the bitter undercurrent I also hear the layers of regret and disappointment.

Laying down my chopping knife I angle my whole body towards her, "You know, up until two days ago I was convinced that our lives were about to change irrevocably, that this threat would succeed in destroying us. I can't tell you how frightened I was and in some ways I still am but Christian found a way. In an utterly hopeless situation, when even his wife doubted, he kept fighting and fixed it. I don't know what happened and I can only assume it has something to do with Ethan," her sharp inhalation confirms my theory when I pause to watch her, "but whatever it is there's always hope."

Turning her doe eyes onto me she blinks back the tears threatening to spill, "Do you really believe that?"

Gently I rub her upper arm, "If you'd have asked me two days ago I would've told you _no,_ but now? Absolutely."

She gives me a small, resolute nod before swinging her gaze back to the chicken. I sense the fragility of the moment. The last thing I want to do is spook her so I return to my chopping, leaving the decision to talk up to her.

"You're right," she murmurs, "it was Ethan. It still is Ethan." Blowing her bangs off her forehead she faces me, "I blew it with him. So badly Ana." Again she drops her gaze, looking at her perfect French manicure as a shameful flush douses her cheeks. Carefully I lay my knife down to give her my full attention but I don't prompt her. It's clear that she's marshalling her thoughts.

After a full minute of silence I see her chest rise with a deep breath, "I was so in love with him and we were getting more and more stuck in the _friend_ zone," she eye-rolls on the word _friend,_ exasperated, "so I decided to take matters into my own hands. If he couldn't see how good we could be together then I had to show him right?"

I have to bite back my smile. Though she and Christian don't actually share DNA they're remarkably similar. I give her a smiling nod as encouragement.

"Just casually I started dating one of his friends in the hopes that he'd get jealous and… I don't know!" She hangs her head, shaking it sadly. "I thought my plan had succeeded when he invited me for a drink one night, just the two of us. We went to a bar, and almost immediately he started telling me that he cared for me, that he didn't want to see me making a mistake and that this friend wasn't the right guy for me. I was thrilled that he was so concerned. In my mind it could only mean one thing and all I could think about doing was to put him out of his misery, so I spilled the beans. I told him that I only started seeing Eric to show him I could be more than just a friend."

I supress a frustrated groan. Even worded like that Ethan would see right through the lie. If there's one thing Ethan despises it's mind games. Growing up attractive and wealthy he quickly learned to distinguish between the real and fake affections women inevitably showered him with. To him deceit like this would be almost unforgivable. He was an easy going guy until you made him mad. "How did he react?" I ask mildly, pursing my lips as I imagined what he would have done.

Mia's eyes grew large, tears filling them to the brink a second time. "He got so mad Ana. He went all silent, clenching his jaw, not even looking at me. I was terrified so of course I made it worse and gave him an ultimatum." When she sees me wincing she nods her head as if to say _yeah, stupid right? _"I just had to know what was going on in that gorgeous head of his so laid I down the gauntlet. Love or nothing." Her mouth thins, turning down in a regretful line, "He chose nothing," she whispers, barely able to stop her bottom lip from trembling.

"Oh Mia," knowing that a full blown hug will set her off I just slip my arm around her shoulders to give her a firm squeeze. "I'm so sorry. Have you spoken to him since?"

Still trying to keep her fraying emotions under control she shakes her head resolutely, "No," she sniffs, "he saw me home and that was it. I've not heard from him since, and I haven't been brave enough to contact him." Her expression is so forlorn I can't help giving her another sympathetic rub on the side of her arm. "We saw each other at Kate and Elliot's wedding but he came armed with a date." Her eyes glaze over with a faraway stare as she gets lost in the painful memory.

"Wow, that's what? About four years?" I muse, almost more to myself.

She sighs, turning back to flip over a chicken breast, "Three years and ten months."

The fact that she's keeping count says so much about how invested she really is. "Have you tried letting someone else into that beautiful heart of yours?" Playfully I bump my shoulder against hers, eager to lighten the mood without seeming flippant.

Wrinkling her nose, her mouth slides into a rueful curve, "I've been on a handful of dates, but I don't know…" She shrugs, leaving her words hanging, "I think I'm a bit like a swan, you know?"

When I frown lightly, she explains, "I only love once." Suddenly my eyes are bright with unexpected tears and complete empathy. Sharing a common thread like that is deeply bonding. I can tell by her gaze that she believes that I get where she's coming from.

"Well," I say hoarsely before clearing my throat, "in the light of what you've just told me there may be some hope. Kate told me that Ethan hasn't seen anyone serious in years."

Mia blinks at the revelation, gasping she touches the base of her throat, "I'm not sure how to feel about that," she issues a nervous giggle. "Is he pining or did I ruin his trust in all women?"

I smile at her dramatic assumption, "Look, I don't want to give you any false hope but Ethan is made of stronger stuff than that. Personally I think your instinct about how he felt about you was spot-on but you have to admit that the situation was a bit extraordinary," I give her a pointed look, "the three of us with the three of you. I guess it seems almost an impossible probability that we would all find love at the same time and with each other."

"I know," she whines, "I just wish I had listened to you. I wish I backed off and waited for him to come around. It was just so hard when I saw him running away from his feelings for me, feelings that I wholeheartedly reciprocated."

Another pang of sympathy punches my heart. Knowing Ethan I offer her the only advice I can think of to sway things back in her favour, "Mia, you're obviously not over this. You owe it to yourself - if for no other reason than to get closure - to peruse this and see where it takes you. We're bound to see him now that Kate and Elliot are coming home. The first thing I'd do is apologise. Make him see that you know what you did was wrong, and then give him space to figure it out for himself."

Slowly she nods her head, looking thoughtful, "Okay. I can do that."

"Also, it can't hurt if you show him what he missed-out on over the last four years." My saucy wink has her grinning. Just like that we had a plan.

XXXXXXXX

Christian seems to enjoy Chris' bedtime routine, and I'm more than happy to accommodate anything that helps them forge a stronger bond. This Sunday evening is no different when he takes Chris from me, fresh from his bath and already yawning.

When he finally joins me in the great room I smile shyly at him over the rim of my glass, noting the relaxed sinuousness of his movements. He looks happy and content when he takes the glass from my hand and swallows the lot in a single gulp. "Hey!" I object as he sinks onto the couch, dragging me into his arms.

He kisses the top of my head, "No more for you Mrs Grey." With my back to his front I try twisting around to see if he's being serious but his strong arm is banded around my waist, pinning me in place. His other hand sweeps my hair over one shoulder so he can nuzzle in the crook of my neck. "I want that womb in tip top shape for our baby."

_What?!_

My traitorous body shivers, making me lean my head to the side to give him better access. "I hardly think…" I start but my protest is cut short by his gently berating tone.

"Uh, uh, uh, no arguments," his big hand splays over my abdomen, the heat pervading through the layers of my clothes. "Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, you'll start your pre-natal vitamins and I'll make sure Gail stocks up on all the green, leafy vegetables. What sort of exercise do you think you'd want to do during the pregnancy?" His baritone is low and oh-so reasonable, but of course the content is outrageous.

"I don't have a choice about what I eat or drink but I can choose how I want to train?" Try as I might I can't keep the incredulous note in my voice from rising. It doesn't escape me that I'm lucky to get even that choice; seems I'll be training whether I like it or not.

I feel his whole body stiffen behind me but his hold remains firm, "Yes," he replies carefully. "There seems to be a few options and I didn't know which you would prefer."

_Oh boy! It's so hard to explain when he just doesn't get it._

"You seem to forget that I've done this before," I reply tartly. "I appreciate your need to be involved but you can't just bark orders at me, you make it seem like I've no say in the matter." I'm desperate to hold on to my temper, we've been doing so well lately and I don't want to spoil it with an argument.

"I'm not barking orders at you Anastasia," he says mildly though I can sense him gritting his teeth. "I've offered you the one option that is available to you. The others are no-brainers. You want the baby to be healthy don't you?"

It's impossible to argue with that levelled at me but it's hardly the point. I take a breath, centring myself. "Of course I want the baby to be healthy but I'm not even pregnant yet. And it's not what you want me to do it's the way you're telling me to do it."

"Fine," comes his terse reply. "Anastasia will you please stop consuming alcohol until such time as it's safe to do so again, for you and the baby?"

_Oh brother!_

"Yes Christian I will."

"And were you planning on starting a course of pre-natal vitamins prior to conception?"

"Yes," I say, feeling ashamed of myself now.

"Good. And can I trust you to take extra care of when and what you eat for the duration of the pregnancy and breastfeeding period?"

"Yes," blushing deeply I look at his possessive hand spayed over my belly. I realise I need to tread very carefully if I'm to hold on to my identity. Find a place where I can still be myself while walking the knife's edge between his controlling nature and my guilt.

I feel him nodding behind me. "Right, so as far as the exercise is concerned, can I get you to agree that some form of exercise will be beneficial for you and the baby?"

"Yes," I breathe again, this time with a heavy note of resignation.

Now that he's gotten his way he relaxes, scraping the growth on his chin against that sensitive spot in my neck again. "Okay. Your options are: Pilates, Aquanatal classes, walking, jogging, swimming, Yoga or low impact aerobics. I can arrange for any of these here at home or you can come to my gym and have the instructor meet you there."

I answer without hesitation, eager now to get this conversation out of the way, "Pilates please. Here at home, and in the mornings before I'm too exhausted."

Again he kisses the top of my head. "Thank you Mrs Grey, albeit for the world's most pointless conversation. Five minutes waisted that I could have been making out with you here on the couch."

I feel my resolve harden. He's made me promise to talk if I needed to, and I've promised myself, not to mention Grace, that I'll make the effort to communicate better but I'm obviously not expressing myself adequately.

Because he thinks our "discussion" is over his hold goes lax, giving me the opportunity to turn out of his embrace to face him. His own falls when he sees the expression on my face, "What's the matter?" he queries, honestly clueless as he reaches out to cup the side of my cheek.

"You've made me promise to talk to you when I'm unhappy right?" At his solemn nod I continue, "I've just told you that the way you handled that made me feel excluded and controlled but instead of hearing me you steamrollered me into getting your way. Involving me in our decisions – no matter how trivial or obvious - isn't pointless, it's vital for me to feel like your partner in this marriage. I simply want to be included in all of those discussions."

He looks at me for what feels like ages - our eyes locked - mine pleading, his searching. "Okay. I'll try." His expression is so sincere, so contrite that my heart crumples a little.

Pushing up from my knees I fling my arms around his shoulders. I plant a firm kiss on his delectable mouth, "Thank you. That's all I can ask for." My reward is his beaming smile and a hot tongue plunging into my willing mouth.

I'm a little disappointed when he breaks the kiss and settles me between his legs again, just like before. Again his hand rests protectively on my still fruitless belly but I don't complain. I know how excited he is about the prospect of a baby; not for the first time I hope he won't be disappointed if it doesn't happen right away.

I shudder a little at his low voice beside my ear, "Tomorrow, early evening the detective that's working our case will be coming to interview you and tie up some loose ends with Taylor and me. Will it suit you if Gail takes care of Chris for that hour or so?"

My smile splits my face in half, "It would suit me just fine Mr Grey, thank you for asking. Now, was that so hard?"

"Mrs Grey," he warns, playful. "I can think of something you can do with that smart mouth of yours." At my giggle his arms tighten around me, "Come, let's get you to bed, we've got work tomorrow and I still want to fuck you." He lifts me off the couch and onto my feet.

"Such a romantic, Mr Grey!" I squeal as he slaps my behind, the sound reverberating through me, pulsing right where it matters the most. I turn my head, smiling at him but his fiendish grin drips with sin, and I'm more than ready to play this game. I do the one thing I know will drive him nuts; to make him follow through on that glint in his stormy eyes. As fast as I can I sprint away, making a run for our bedroom.

Of course I know he'll catch me and I want nothing more, but the thrill is in resisting and for him, the chase. He only catches up with me short of our bed where he wastes no time tackling me into the mattress, easily pinning my arms above my head. "Where do you think you're going Mrs Grey?" he licks the shell of my ear despite my best efforts to buck him off.

I love how strong he is, how effortlessly his body blankets my back, holding me in place. I try rolling to one side and then the other while his free hand drags along the length of my legs pushing my skirt up and up to expose my butt. "You are a feisty little thing," he growls, cupping a big handful of flesh as he firmly kneads into my naked buttock. "Do you think it's nice to run away from your loving husband?"

I grin and shiver, still squirming beneath him but undeniably aroused, especially by the hoarse baritone, breathless and hot in my ear. Just as I try to answer he grinds the evidence of his desire into my hip, groaning. "Answer me!" he commands, smacking my cheek with the flat of his hand. It stings in that delicious way I remember before his palm skates over the skin to soothe the burn.

x

"No, it wasn't nice of me to run away from my husband," I pant, feeling the heat of the smack in my empty, aching core.

"Then why did you do it Mrs Grey? Is this what you want?" Again he spanks me, just below the sting of the previous one.

"Ah!" I arch my back, the sensation rocketing through me. I'm suddenly hyperaware of every square inch of my skin. "Yes!" I hiss, too breathless to string a full sentence together.

"Yes what?" he demands on another growl, his hand striking the flesh on the side of my ass. Instead of soothing the skin, like he normally does, he holds his hand in place, letting the burn of the sting suffuse with the heat of his palm.

"Yes! Yes, this is what I wanted," I sob, my desire having built so fast I was drenched and desperate already.

Roughly he turns me over, fusing the slate of his stare with mine. He takes a long minute looking down my body, no doubt taking in the flush of my desire and the aching, pebbled points of my nipples poking clearly through this thin cotton of my shirt. His breath gusts short and hard as his thick length lies twitching against me, impatient. "Really baby? You missed this?"

Blinking I look up to him, my teeth grazing my lip. Even lying flat on my back I can see the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I feel my blood sliding sinuously through my veins, my skin screaming for his touch and my core clenching in wild anticipation. "Yes," I whisper, giving him a shy smile. "Can't you tell?" Opening my legs a little wider, I try to rock my hips against his.

He hisses, sucking in a breath, "Shall we see how you're doing?" All the while keeping his heavy lidded eyes on me he drags the back of his finger over the lace covering the lips of my sex. "Mmmhhh, if you're this wet on the outside just how wet are you on the inside?" he murmurs, his irises growing darker as he pulls my panties aside to slip a long finger inside.

My lids close, my neck arcing at the sensational friction of his intrusion but it's way too short. When I open my eyes I find him rubbing my wetness between his fingers, studying the movement with concentration. Before I can ask what he's doing his mouth covers mine, and we get lost in each other, intimately and intensely, like only we can.

XXXXXXXXXX

If the course of Monday is anything to go by, we'll be coasting through the rest of our lives. All things considered it turns out to be the perfect work day. We wake up from a fantastic night's rest, have breakfast with an upbeat Gail and drive to work with Taylor. Christian and I drop Chris at the day care that is nothing short of a mini children's paradise. Christian introduces me to Daisy, the carer then kisses us goodbye. She's young and energetic and has a lovely way with the kids.

When Chris spots three boys about his age playing a boisterous game of pirates he runs over to introduce himself without a backward glance to me. I'm thrilled a minute later to see that they've taken him into their fold and showing him around. Daisy is showing me around the impressive facility that has every amenity you can think of. She hands me a welcome pack with all the information about the centre, and after hugging my baby boy I head to my new office on the Grey Publishing floor.

Julie and her team greet me warmly and in spite of being the big boss' wife, I don't feel like I don't belong. I had the book deal before Christian's interference and I'm glad she got a look at my work without his undue influence. Apart from Julie I'll be dealing mostly with her PA, Derek. She introduces me to him and I'm pleasantly surprised that he's about my age and very enthusiastic for his first project. He tells me that he has a keen interest in publishing, hoping to learn from Julie to become an editor himself.

My next surprise is my office. Julie hands me an envelope with my key card and a hand written note from Christian.

_Mrs Grey,_

_Please feel free to decorate your office however you see fit. Welcome to Grey Publishing._

_Your husband, the CEO_

It makes me giggle as I take in the sparsely furnished office. It's a good size but not in-your-face big. It's carpeted with bare walls and a large window overlooking the teeming streets of Seattle. A desk, three chairs, a laptop and wastepaper basket makes up the rest of my office ensemble. I might add a couch, some plants and a few pictures but it's perfectly functional as it is.

I'm grateful that Christian is standing back, letting me create my own identity and carve my own path here, more so when I only get three e-mails from him during my half day stay.

Christian is in a meeting when I decide to call it a day just after lunch. Collins collects Chris and I to take us home, and I even remember to send Christian a text to let him know. We spend the afternoon playing and laughing like we used to in Savannah before I had to go to my evening shift at work.

When Chris hears his dad's voice coming from the foyer he drops everything, dashing up to meet him, squealing with delight. A few seconds later I join their hug, sandwiching Chris between us and greeting my husband with a warm smile and a firm kiss. "Mmhhh," he groans appreciatively, "a man can get used to this." The honest elation in his gaze is breathtaking as he basks in the love of his very own family.

After dinner Gail sweeps Chris away with the promise of many bedtime stories. Christian and I share a smile as we listen to the two of them chattering excitedly as they make their way down the passage.

Twenty minutes later I'm shaking the hand of detective Mancuso. "It's good to finally meet you Mrs Grey. I'm sorry for intruding on you in your home, but I'm sure your husband would have briefed you, we need your statement for our records."

His manner is warm and professional, making me feel at ease, "It's no problem detective. I'll do whatever I can to help. Please have a seat, and can I offer you some coffee?"

He takes a seat, accepting the coffee then starts his line of questioning. Firstly he clears up a few facts with Taylor before bringing his focus to me. He asks me about Jose and our history which is horrible to rehash, the break-in we had in Savannah which I have very little to report on as I was at work, but I have a lot to recount on the shooting. Christian sits quietly beside me, holding my hand in silent support.

"So you were already at your father's when you received the dead flowers?" he asks, looking up from the tablet he's using to record his notes.

"Yes, though it is my understanding that they were sent here the day before. One of Christian's employees brought the box as well as our post along to my dad's."

He nods, turning his attention to Christian, "Mr Grey, am I correct in assuming that you ordered your own independent ballistics report on the sniper round?"

"Yes, my security team is nothing if not thorough," he jerks his head in Taylor's direction. "I'll be happy to e-mail you a copy for your perusal. Will a PDF file do?"

The detective looks up, surprised, "Yes please. I would appreciate that."

Sitting here, discussing the whole ordeal with the detective and hearing our versions of the chain of events has my mind combing through the facts once more. There are still aspects of it that don't sit well with me, things that just don't ring true. "Detective, can I ask you something?"

All three men's gazes swing to me, the detective's expectant, "Of course Mrs Grey."

"If this David person was after Christian and only found out about me being in the picture from a bogus tabloid article, why would he still bother to send me anything after the shooting? I don't know him and if he managed to…" I swallow; unable to voice the words my mind scrambles for a euphemism to use. "If he was successful with his mission why would he bother to send creepy flowers to the widow of his target that has nothing to do with his contract? I don't even understand how he knew we were married."

Christian narrows his eyes at me and the detective strokes his chin, "Well Mrs Grey, it's hard to say but in my experience these guys get their kicks in all sorts of ways. He might be a contract killer but to be in his line if work you still need to be unhinged enough to kill and therefore they often display behaviours that are out of place. As for his knowledge about the two of you getting married," he shrugs his shoulders noncommittally, "he's a pro, he would definitely have kept tabs on you, and no matter how discreet an establishment is there's always someone whose information can be bought."

"Oh," I say nodding but feeling strangely unsatisfied with his explanation.

"Well, that's it from my side. Thank you for your cooperation," he says as he stands, extending his hand to Christian and then Taylor. He offers me a farewell nod before Taylor escorts him out.

With the quiet settling around us Christian enfolds me into a hug, "You handled that so well baby, you never cease to amaze me," pulling away to meet my gaze he sweeps my hair behind my ears.

The warm glow of his eyes is like the sun on my face, the compliment making me blush with pleasure. I can only smile in reply. Leaning down he kisses the tip of my nose, "Why don't you grab a shower? I need to have a quick debrief with Taylor."

"Okay, see you in a few." Without giving it a second thought I take my leave and head to the shower, ready to wash the day away.

**Christian's Point of View:**

He stood in the great room watching her go but his heart was sinking. She made a very relevant point to the detective and even thought the asswipe didn't answer her for shit he sure as hell wasn't going to let it slide. If there was any chance that his family was still in danger it was his responsibility to stop it. Just then Taylor came up to him, dragging him away from his reverie. By the look on his face Christian could tell that the man sensed danger just as much as he did.

Without a word they strode to Taylor's study, a new determination evident in the reach of their strides. Careful not to be overheard Christian closed the door behind him before sinking into a nearby chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long breath before squaring up to his right hand man, "Fuck," he spat, finding the denim blue stare equally concerned.

"What are your thoughts sir?" Taylor asked, folding his meaty hands on the top of his desk.

"I'm afraid we missed more crap because we wanted so badly for it to be over. Did we manage to finger the leak at the Bellagio?"

"No sir but we did eliminate the most obvious suspects. The butler from your villa was the last suspect we interviewed and even though he admitted to being approached for information he swears blind that he declined. I think he has a bit of a soft spot for Mrs Grey," Taylor watched his boss, hoping he wasn't going to choose this moment to fly off the handle in a jealous rage.

Christian snorted, "Dirty old goat!" He remarked before turning serious again. "I assume we stopped the investigation because the threat was eliminated?"

"Yes sir. After David's death there seemed little point in pursuing it but I'll put our men back onto it."

Christian nodded; the grim set of his mouth only turning grimmer as he ran a nervous hand though his hair. "There's something else I need to tell you, something I should've mentioned long before now." He could feel his insides twisting though he doubted it was with regret, he was still glad he did what he did, but it could certainly be fear, he thought. Fear that he – once again – was the reason his family's welfare was in jeopardy.

Taylor stiffened in his chair, it was clear from his boss' hesitation that he was about to deliver a doozy, and in his line of work surprises were as welcome as a shot to the head.

Christian cleared his throat, "When I found out that Jose had left Anastasia just before Chris' birth I hired someone to beat the crap out of him. Obviously I was discreet, the incident is in no way traceable to me but there is a chance that Jose might know that I had a hand in it. I instructed the attacker to deliver a message once it was done. I don't know if Jose was coherent enough to receive it but he was told to keep his hands off her."

**Thank you for reading, chapter 42 to follow.**

**Please don't forget to review.**


	42. Chapter 42

**Dear readers, thank you for your continued support and your reviews. I value your input. Again a late posting, will edit tomorrow and repost. **

**Chapter 42**

**Taylor's Point of view:**

Taylor whistled through his teeth, utterly stunned. Of all the things he was expecting to hear, this was the very last. It wasn't that he was surprised that Christian had gone to such lengths to wreak his special brand of justice, but rather that his employer had not trusted him with this piece of information. Not only was it insanely irresponsible but highly unusual to boot.

He understood, more than most, Christian's need to put Jose in his place. He was a jealous man himself and fuck knew if someone were to hurt Gail - in any way - he'd have no problems rearranging the fucker's face even if he had to do the dirty work himself. He was just about to express his grievance when something else occurred to him, something about his boss' demeanour as he dealt this little security blow made him bite his rather stern tongue. The man was ashamed he realised with a second shock, the unusual sentiment completely out of place in his cool boss' standard emotional armour of poise and impassiveness.

He wondered briefly what he was ashamed about. Was it the fact that he hired some thug to do his bidding or that he used the violence he found so abhorrent. With Christian you just never knew. Taylor would be the first to admit that in spite of being a smart man himself, keeping up with the guy was virtually impossible, but if he was to hazard a guess he'd bet that - in this instance - it had everything to do with keeping the information hidden. He knew that his boss had to know that if he'd spoken up sooner their investigation would have looked a whole lot different. In fact, now that he thought about it, it rocketed Jose to the top spot on their suspect list. Taylor could never wrap his mind around Jose's involvement, not at the level they had experienced, but something like this could certainly be enough to push him over the cliff he was already precariously balanced on.

_Shit!_ He thought as new possibilities cut through his mind like hungry sharks through the deep waters of the black ocean. With David dead there was no way to tell who was responsible for what and together with the loose ends that still dangled, taunting him, the notion that they were being chased by two perps was beginning to seem more and more likely.

If it had been any other client he'd have tendered his resignation in two beats of a heart, but for some reason the rare emotional display made it impossible to judge the negligent act from an employee's point of view. No, he looked to this as he would a friend, a good, close friend that had done something stupid, and now came to him for help. He couldn't, wouldn't turn his back on a friend. Despite the professional contract standing between them he had never come across a fairer, more generous man, a man he trusted implicitly and admired exceedingly. He just hoped he could trust his instincts, that this had been a once-off rash, emotionally fuelled decision that had no bearing on Christian's customary sharp witted choices.

Hell, as far as Taylor was concerned Christian should be running the fucking country never mind the company he'd singlehandedly sent into the stratosphere of success. So he swallowed his angry words, and set his mind to damage control, "Sir how sure are you that this event isn't traceable back to you?"

Christian regarded him for a long moment, reading him carefully, "I am absolutely positive, and before you ask I can assure you that I've not withheld anything else from you, before or since. Ever. This was…" Taylor watched as Christian's Adam's apple bobbed down on an agitated swallow, a long fingered hand raking through his perpetually dishevelled hair, "I was in a dark place," he confided, his tone starkly sober.

Taylor thought Christian was done, and more than a little relieved to hear that the black mark didn't have to taint the rest of their dealings, but he heard him take a steeling breath before turning that piercing grey gaze back to him. It pinned him and instantly he sensed another confession was coming his way. "On some level I didn't want it to be Jose, and I'm afraid that it's clouded my judgement in this situation. Ana is struggling with so much guilt, I was - still am actually," he issued a mirthless laugh, one that went with a now glassy stare, "terrified that it would be too much for her to handle. That she wouldn't be able to deal with this on top of everything else. If she bolted again…" he shook his head, returning to a place in his head where he only knew hurt.

Taylor copped the change in Christian's eyes. It was dramatic and horribly reminiscent. It was the one he saw on the day she left. Like something was torn from them, then replaced with a poor copy of the original. Even though he was a man and supposedly immune to such things he'd give anything not to see that look again. That day his own soul had bled for Christian, the man was in so many pieces. He might not share his employer's particular tastes in the bedroom but he'd have no qualms about tying Anastasia to a bedpost or something if she ever so much as thought about bailing again. _Damn,_ he thought dismayed, this was a bigger crap fest than he first assumed, and then berated himself firmly. Making assumptions was exactly how you got into a fuck-up like this.

"Sir, just for the sake of clarity and if I have your permission to speak freely," he waited for a nod from Christian before he continued, "the implications of this are far reaching. This would have changed our whole approach. I'm prepared to take the lead on this one but you need to relinquish the control of it entirely to me. No second guessing, no interfering. I'm sure I don't have to remind you what is at stake, and we sure as shit can't afford to make another mistake like this." He gave Christian a pointed glare, just to reiterate the seriousness of this unfamiliar lapse in his otherwise impeccable record.

"Yes," Christian answered and from his expression Taylor could tell that he had taken his words on board, and was ready to make the changes needed to see this through. "I understand. You have my full backing and cooperation. Anything you need. I'm too close to this Taylor." The admission was quiet and low and helluva' unexpected. It was yet another reason Taylor respected him as much as he did any of his solid army buddies. It took a big man to search himself for flaws and then have the guts to fix them, especially if said person was a control freak that gave all controlling bastards a bad name.

"Thank you sir, I'll take it from here." Taylor looked at his clasped hands as they lay on his desk, pondering if he should go for broke and just put it all out there. If ever there was a time it was now he figured. "Sir, one more thing if I may?" He held up a lone finger as he watched his boss' reaction.

Christian looked up, weary but listening. Taylor decided to take it as a good sign and ploughed on, speaking way out of turn, but he was careful with the choice of his words. "Sir I don't think you should shield Mrs Grey from this latest development. Her cooperation is vital. If she perceives the threat, especially one related to your son, she'll be much easier to manage. I'm not saying dump it all in one foul swoop, you might want to feed her bits over time but tell her enough to get her on side."

Christian's lips thinned, clearly not enamoured by the idea but Taylor knew that he was more than bright enough to see sense. "Okay," he breathed. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

If Taylor was prone to showing emotion he'd let out a sigh of relief but instead he straightened in his chair, easily switching back to the larger issue at hand. "Can we do a quick recap sir? I want to get our men on this ASAP."

Christian sat back, seemingly relieved that the deep shit was over. "Shoot," he ordered in a way that somehow underlined his inclination to do what needs to be done.

"Our first port of call should be to restart our timeline. Let's see if we can separate events. If any of the incidents can be attributed to someone other than David because the way I see it, we're staring down the barrel of two perps right now."

"Agreed. It's clear that the sniper incident and the flowers are connected. Looking at it now the hunting rifle might not have been a decoy like we first thought. It may very well have been the only weapon the perp had access too."

Taylor watched Christian as he practically jumped from his chair, his agitation levels spiking again. "Fuck!" he spat, his anger directed solely at himself. "I should have paid more attention when Ana brought that up, but David was so damn convenient. I hate second guessing myself but I really screwed up. And she was right about another thing too; I can't simply will shit to be true no matter how much I want it to be. I need to get my fucking head on straight, I just…." This time both hands tracked a path through his hair as he paced a trench in front of the desk.

Suddenly Christian stopped, again drilling Taylor with that slate stare that now had an edge of desperation to it, "I just wanted to believe that they were safe."

Taylor knew this routine. He had never known anyone who could be so hard on himself. Christian would beat himself up, muttering about his own incompetence before finding some brilliant solution that saved the day all round. It was ironic that this berating process he went through was the very thing that made him so good at what he did. But Taylor also knew when it was time to take over, and that time was now. It was pointless rehashing it. The last thing he wanted was his boss wallowing in knee deep self-loathing that held him fast like quicksand. Rather he needed him sharp and focussed. Hopefully the baby making would keep him distracted enough to bar him from dwelling on his very uncommon oversight.

"Sir, I can't sanction your decision but I'll be damned if I say I didn't understand it. I hate to point out the obvious but you're human. Being driven by fear is as instinctive as you can get, and considering the history between you and Mrs Grey..." He let his words trail with a small shrug, knowing that Christian would get the picture anyway.

Christian stared at him for long minutes before he spoke again, "You're right," he said, and with that sat back down, composed.

Taylor opened a file that he had stashed nearby, running his trained eye over the information to reacquaint himself with the facts. "The Dom/sub contract and the photo that was leaked to the blog were not in the file your pal lifted from David's hideout, and without that information, what he did have on your lifestyle was pretty thin. I think it's safe to say that this also was not his doing otherwise it would have been with the rest of the info."

Christian nodded, tapping his lips with a finger in thought, "The shooting smacks of Jose though I'm still not convinced that he's capable of something that drastic even if he knew about the beating. The leaks however points to Lincoln, apart from Ana I don't see how Jose would have gotten wind of my lifestyle. And in the light of my recent oversight I'm not willing to exclude anything."

"Understood," Taylor acknowledged. "We'll start by following up on the lead from the Bellagio again, whoever sent the flowers must have gotten the tip-off about the wedding from the hotel. I'll put eyes on Mr Lincoln and Mr Rodriguez, but as far as I know he's still on location."

Christian stood up. Without prompt the two men's gazes met, sharing a look that conveyed both trust and a renewed determination. "Thank you Jason," Christian said, a flicker of vulnerability perceptible for a scant second before he strode out, leaving Taylor to the tactical strategies that now crowded his mind. Sleeping was going to be damn near impossible with this shit brewing in his head.

XXXXXXXX

**Ana:**

If the grim cast of his full mouth and the tense bearing of his shoulders wasn't enough to clue me in on his dark mood then the depth of annoyance in his eyes did. Straightening against the headboard I watch his determined gate, his strides lengthening with desperation to reach me. Throwing off the covers I scramble from the bed, making myself available to give him the comfort he so obviously needs.

My feet barely touch the ground before he captures me in a crushing embrace, his arms like steel as they lock around me, his frantic heart hammering between us. I feel him burying his face in my neck - inhaling, the swell of his chest pushing us even closer. Taking his lead I wrap my legs around his hips as my hands slip into the soft strands of his hair.

I hold him with the same resignation, eager to prove my willingness even as the first trickling of fear stirs in my belly - unwholesome and unwelcome. "Christian, what's the matter?" I rasp, breathless from the tight vice of his grip. He replies by simply re-clamping a splayed hand to my back, his fingers digging into my flesh with such force that I feel the slight tremble of them against me.

Everything inside me is screaming for answers, but for now he needs my body more than my words. Banking my questions I surrender to his needs, safe in the knowledge that with my submission the answers will come. Sensing my acceptance he leans over the bed to place me in the centre of it. His heat leaves my body just for the second it takes him to flip off the bedside light, but it gives me enough time to catch the despair marring the usual brilliant grey of his gaze before we're plunged into darkness. A despair he's hiding I realize, and also running away from as he settles between my legs, roughly pushing the edge of my short silk slip out of his determined way.

At the barrier of my panties he grunts his annoyance, ripping it away with an impatient tug. I gasp, the burn of the chafing friction quickly forgotten when his raring tongue makes contact with my sensitive sex. I buck into his hot mouth, the shock of sensation sending a sizzling jolt down my legs. Making use of my brief jerk from the bed he spears both hands beneath my ass, grabbing the backs of my thighs. A second later I feel his thumbs applying a firm pressure as they rest just at the edge of my opening.

My breath hitches at his ferocious pace, his tongue insistent, lapping fast and strong as it seeks out that perfect melting spot. There's no hint of my teasing lover, no slow controlled burn that he takes care not to fan too quickly. No, between my legs I have a fully dressed demon intent on making me come in small fractions of the usual time he would allow.

My hands fist in his hair, restless with my need. As always my body is a slave to him, his long wet licks controlling me just as a stern command in his voice would, and if the ardent lashings of his tongue are anything to go by he's urging me to follow him blindly down the path of his assaulting seduction. And I do, as he sucks my clitoris into his mouth on the final crest before the wave breaks. With a loud creed ripped from my lips my contracting muscles sends my torso arcing into his face. Fast and hard, I shudder with the violence of my wrenched release.

His ministrations slow, his languid tongue licking in long strokes as I flop back onto the covers. Reaching down I cup his jaw to pull him up to me, my lips grateful and ready for his kiss but he resists, shaking his head between my thighs. "Again," he rasps as he shifts, evidently readjusting himself for round two as his tongue presses into my entrance.

"I can't. Too soon," I pant, my head lolling about as I draw short, shattered breaths. Christian ignores me, with his forearm over my lower abdomen he pins me to the bed to stop me from wriggling away while the fingers of his free hand goes to work between my sodden folds, wringing that overstimulated bundle of nerves with a gentle rub.

One moment I'm squirming, trying to get away from his jolting touch, the next I'm chasing another orgasm with a renewed, single minded focus. He knows just how to get me there, those clever fingers going round and round, teasing, never coming close enough to that swollen bud as it pluses, now aching for his touch.

The shallow penetration of his tongue is sinfully arousing, taunting as it circles just inside me, gathering the wet flow of my desire. He groans; the sound vibrating against my flesh. I gasp a jagged _aahhh_ as my hips gyrate in a tiny motion to snag his fingers just the right way. With my hands clawing at the sheets in frustration I whimper, feeling deprived of that one precise touch that will send me flying.

The muscles in my legs tense, straining harder with every second he denies me, my whole body quivering from the instinctual pursuit. "Please Christian," I plead; the sound of my breathless sob muffled by the raging torrent of my blood.

He withdraws his tongue to speak, instantly making me regret that I spoke, "Tell me what you want baby."

I'm beyond caring, my inhibitions stolen along with my sanity, "Touch me! Please, make me come!" Mercifully the husky words torn from my raw throat does the trick. Christian stabs his firm tongue into me, forceful and as deep as he can go. I moan in pleasure, my body rushing right to the edge of reason, poised for my shattering fall.

The final nudge I so desperately need comes from his hand. The heel of it presses into my pubic bone, the pressure intensifying the ripples as they start. The rapid glide of his fingers, aided by the copious cream I've gushed, run over my explosive bundle, stunning my senses in quickening throes of toe curling sensation. I issue a long, loud curse as the pleasure quakes through me, Christian slowing down only enough to make it last.

When I find myself I'm in Christian's arms, his clothed front to my naked, sweat slicked back. I'm replete, liquefied, my body exhausted and still quivering from the exertion. He kisses my neck, a possessive arm curled around me, anchoring me to his comforting form. "We have to talk baby. Were you planning on going into the office tomorrow?"

Through my orgasm induced daze I don't notice the urgent undercurrent of his quiet request, but I do feel the hard swell of his straining erection pressing against my behind. I fling a limp arm backward in an attempt to stroke him, "What about you Mr Grey?" I mumble drowsily, almost giggling at the improbable thought of round three for me. I can barely keep my eyes open.

"Tomorrow," he promises cryptically in my ear while he moves my wandering arm back to my front. "Say we can talk in the morning and you can go to sleep."

"Mm-hmm," I agree, a niggling worry just bleeding into my mind before sleep yanks my consciousness away.

XXXXXXXXX

Tuesday morning I wake with a start, disorientated in a tangle of sheets, and not surprisingly, alone. The first hit of adrenaline jolts me upright as the pieces of the night before comes together. I remember Christian's mood, the mind-blowing but very out-of-character attack on my body, his request to talk, and strangest of all; not giving in to his obvious arousal.

Panic lashes like a whip over my grated nerves, the residual concerns over recent events is obviously closer to the surface than I realised. My low self-esteem has me so conditioned that I immediately comb through the course of yesterday to find a reason for his rejection. Coming up empty does nothing to loosen the tight knot that's twisted my stomach despite my inner goddess pointing out that he bestowed on me two earth shattering orgasms.

I pull on a pair of yoga pants with a matching tee, not wanting to face him in a flimsy dressing gown if he's mad. Tentatively I leave our bedroom, my scattered emotions fleetingly touching on a vague thought - _could there be another reason behind the wicked application of his sexpertise, one that went beyond the obvious gratification it brought me?_ I'm forced to dismiss the notion when we round the corner in the passage at the same time, almost bumping into each other.

I get no morning smile but instantly he bands his arm around me for support. Looking up I find his troubled gaze, the sight of it has my heart plummeting into my shoes. I can't help the shock widening my eyes when his expression alone is enough to convey that something is very, very wrong. Before his clouded stare cuts away I catch a glimpse of the contrition they hold, the usual bright grey dull with it. My breath jams in my throat as my blood turns cold with dread.

"We have to talk," he says, his voice strangely devoid of any telling sentiment.

I nod numbly, blinking back the tears that have no business spilling. "Chris?" I ask with an unsteady, broken croak.

Christian places a hand in the small of my back, the light pressure steering me back the way I came. "He's had breakfast, he's fine. Gail is with him."

He ushers me into our bedroom before turning to lock the door behind him. Meekly I follow him to the sitting area where he takes a seat on the sofa. With a quick tug of my hand he pulls me towards him, "Come," he commands as he leans back against the armrest. Still skittish I take up the seat between his legs, my back to his front. Without wasting any time he secures me with both arms as they cross over my chest to hold me in place.

My inner goddess is smiling serenely, taking the full body contact as a positive sign, but my subconscious is arguing that the embrace is more like a prison. I, on the other hand, feel way too uncertain to make a call either way.

I jump in his arms when he starts to speak, his measured baritone low and even beside my ear, "I want to tell you something. You're not going to like it, but I need you to make me a promise first."

I've no idea what he's about to share, how on earth can I promise anything without knowing what I'm getting myself into. "Christian, I don't know…"

Abruptly he cuts me off, "Just agree dammit!" he insists; his arms becoming a crushing weight as they clutch me closer.

It's disconcerting that I can't see his face. The way he's positioned me keeps me from gleaning even the smallest clue from his expression. Nor is the situation conducive to slaking the slowly building fear that's currently eating away at my faculties. "Okay," I breathe, notwithstanding having my thoughts trapped in a loop of wild speculations, not one of them a desirable notion.

"Promise me you won't run," he grits at my acquiescence, the edge of his desperation unmistakable, hitting me in the gut like a punch.

_Oh no! Oh fuck!_ I baulk at the possible implications, the cold grip of fear, at least in my mind, only a sentence away from becoming full-blown horror. "I promise I won't run," I relent, the whispered words falling from my paper dry mouth.

He relaxes his grasp as the tension leaves his arms, "Thank you," he says simply before taking a bolstering breath. I'm grateful when he starts straight away, "When you asked the detective about the flowers last night it got me thinking. Both Taylor and I agree that there's a strong possibility that David wasn't the only perp plotting against me."

As if my body wasn't tense enough my muscles stiffen further, the shock like a jolt to my system, "You think he had someone working with him?"

"No. We believe that there's a second suspect completely unrelated to David. Your observation about the flowers was very insightful, and it's led me to believe that I've made some serious errors in judgement where this case is concerned. I've been so caught up in holding on to you, so desperate to keep you and Chris safe that when the neatly tied-up package of David presented itself I was overeager to accept it as fact without looking too deeply into our unanswered questions. Questions like the one you raised with the detective."

Even though the idea of another maniac on the loose should scare the crap out of me my mind snags on the part where his fear of losing me is impairing his discernment. It hits my guilt button, bringing out my insecurities in the worst possible way. The shame always comes with terrible feelings of worthlessness that I seem powerless to stem. Because of our threat and the fear that went along with it Dr Flynn and my sessions has mostly been about controlling that fear, but now I wish we had spent the time exploring the tools to help me to cope with the things that previously wrenched me away from happiness.

"I agree with you that it's unlikely that David would have gone to the effort to send you the flowers, we also know that the flowers are related to the botched sniper shot and that the shooter wasn't a professional hit man. We feel that this points to Jose but the other loose end, the Dom/sub contract and the playroom photo that was leaked to the blog seems to have Lincoln's stamp all over it. Needless to say that security will be back in full force and I'll be insisting on your cooperation."

"Yes, of course," I say with an absentminded frown, once again only truly hearing the mention of Jose. I was so relieved when he was not involved because I dreaded the guilt that would have come from that. "But…" I stammer, "But I recall Taylor saying that Jose was an unlikely suspect. He said that he didn't believe that Jose had enough motivation to go as far as attempted murder."

I hear Christian sucking in a sharp breath before exhaling slowly, "Yes, we've had a development on that front." Again his arms tighten around me, as if to brace me against the news. "When I found out that Jose left you a month before Chris' birth I lost it." He pauses, leaving me to listen to my heavy beating heart. "Please understand Ana I missed you so badly. I was so desperate to be with you, the thought of him leaving you, and that with his "child" on the way…" I feel him shaking his head in disbelief just as fresh waves of shame crash over me.

Suddenly I know what's coming. I had my suspicions when it happened though I've never asked Christian outright. My thoughts start to race, only taking a moment to catch-up to his confession before it dawns on me: if Jose knows that Christian beat him up, he might very well want revenge.

"I hired someone to teach him a lesson. I had someone beat him up."

**Thank you for reading, please don't forget to review!**

**Chapter 43 to follow**

**I have two more Fifty Shades short stories here on Fanfiction (Christmas Meander and Valentine's Meander) and an extra one on my blog (Quickie Meander). See my profile for the links.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Hello dear readers, a sincere thank you for your lovely reviews and feedback.**

**Chapter 43**

I try twisting around but his grip only tightens. With his chin resting on my shoulder I have no purchase to manoeuvre even my neck. I want to see his face, to judge for myself what's going through his head. _Why did he make me promise to stay? Is this what he thinks will drive me away or is there more to his story?_

"I suspected as much at the time. Were you worried about telling me?" I hold my breath, all too aware of how his answer will impact on the shame I keep hoarding.

Instantly the steel bleeds from his hold as he relaxes around me, cuddling rather than restraining me. I resist the impulse to turn, giving him a moment to compose himself. "You know me too well Mrs Grey," he breathes, kissing the shell of my ear. "And yes, I was…" he pauses, hunting - I suspect - for a tactful word, "uncertain about your reaction. I wasn't prepared to take that risk."

My heart melts even as it cracks wide open. _Will I ever see the end of my failings?_ Using the slackened give in his arms I turn around, finding his gaze to pin it with mine. In his eyes I see what my actions have cost him, to repay him with the sincerity in my own feels inadequate but it burns there for him anyway. Framing his face with my hands I kneel between his spread thighs, "I know you don't want me to dwell on it, and I know you don't want me to feel guilty but how can I not? Look at how I've hurt you! I. Am. So. Sorry. I would do anything, anything at all to take it back. To show you that I'm here to stay."

Reluctantly my hands leave his face to tug my wedding ring from my finger. I slip the platinum band just far enough to reveal the permanent promise I had inked around it. For a long beat he stares at it, our heads touching as he strokes the fine black lines with the tip of his finger. Finally he pushes the ring back into place before taking my hand and pressing it to his heart, "Mine," he whispers as he finds my weepy eyes again.

x

"Yes. Yours," I swallow, fighting the threatening swamp of emotions as they well-up, burning in the back of my throat. "Always."

Christian runs both his hands through my hair, letting it all hang down my back while those grey irises grow darker, more possessive as they search my face. "You were afraid earlier. Tell me what went through your thoughts when I brought you here just now."

Suddenly the confessional bubble around us is too intimate, too intense for me to bear, making my self-preserving instinct kick-in with the fast thud of my pulse. Quickly I cut away my stare and the revealing truths they hold from his all-knowing focus. Seeing as I can't doge the question entirely I go for a half truth, "I thought you were mad at me."

Even though I suspected that I wouldn't get away with it I'm still reluctant to follow the lead of his finger under my chin, gently nudging my head up. His eyes instantly move to find mine, his frown doleful. "Tell me Anastasia." Even though his words are tender, coaxing even it carries no less command.

I sigh, sitting back on my tucked legs. "I don't know," I lie. "Nothing specific but with what happened last night…" The edge of my t-shirt becomes very interesting as I drop my head, wanting to conceal the vulnerability of my blush.

"Hey," he pleads, "don't hide. What happened last night?"

Snapping up my stare I scan his expression. _Did he forget?_ I feel the red of my flush deepen, the words uncomfortable and blaring insecurity as I mumble around them, "You rejected me. You didn't want to…" My shoulders shrug once, dejectedly as I avoid his sharp granite gaze once more.

"Jeez," he hisses, shaking his head as his strong hands clamp around my upper arms. "What the fuck are you and Flynn talking about? You think I don't want you? How can that still be the first place your mind goes?"

My eyes widen, gaping with surprise. If he wasn't mad before he sure is now. I blink, trying to find words that are sensible enough to explain something that seemed plausible to me a minute ago but now seems dangerously close to a betrayal of the trust I promised to give him. "I thought…"

"You thought what?" he barks, interrupting me. "You thought that I didn't want you when I went down on you, licking that delicious peach into two orgasms because what? Please. Tell me." He gives my shoulders a small shake, his frustration clear and rising.

I can't help gasping, shocked at his blatant, sexy words, but of course, he's perfectly correct and I suspect trying in his own way to make a point I'm only now beginning to see. As the image of his face buried between my legs reels through my thoughts I'm hit with both a hard desire and a bleak insight into just how insecure I am. It's an alarming and confusing swirl of feelings that manifests itself in a heart wrenching sob. My hand flies up to cover my face as my tears brim and finally spill.

Christian - always there, always knowing - does exactly what I need him to do. Without another word he crushes me to him, holding me against him while he strokes my hair. "Sshhhh," he soothes, "I'm not mad. I just can't understand how you could even consider such a thing. Is Flynn not helping you? Talk to me baby, please. You promised that you won't let this tear us apart."

More words from him that make perfect sense, more guilt for me. I can only cry harder as I feel the sting, my inadequacies like cuts in my wounded psyche. Knowing that he's right only makes it worse. "I…I…I'm sorry," I stutter, my voice jagged from crying.

Christian just holds me, his patience as touching as it is welcome. When I'm done with the crying, still sucking in shuddering breaths, I push away from him, wiping my red rimmed eyes with the heel of my hands. The expression I find on his beautiful face is one of concern. I sniffle through drying my face and Christian helps, combing my hair away from my damp cheeks.

Regrouping I let out a breath, releasing the crush of my emotions in a long, slow blow. "Dr Flynn is helping me but with everything that's been going on we've concentrated on dealing with my fear more than my insecurities. I know I made a commitment to you, I won't break that promise."

Again he strokes my hair, regarding me intently, "I won't let you. I. Love. You." He brushes his lips past mine, his mouth only half open as he lingers there, sharing my breath, our lips hardly touching. I get caught up in the exquisite torture of his nearness, his gentlest of kisses that barely skim but move me so deeply. "I want you more and more every day, I get lost in you - deeper every day," he murmurs; the breath of his words warming my heart just as they warm my lips.

"I know," I whisper, and I do, it's just sometimes - I don't.

"I don't mind spending the rest of my life showing you but you have to believe it, I want the knowledge to become inherent in you." He's still murmuring softly, against my mouth, but the grip of his hand on the back of my neck is fierce, hard with the passion of his emotions.

I nod a small nod, my lips lightly grazing his with the movement, and it's all he needs to kiss me properly. Tilting his head he takes my mouth, the firm mould of his lips sealing over mine. His tongue plunges deep, persistent, possessive, licking against mine with slow strokes, hot and soft like velvet.

My hands slip up his neck, roaming into his hair. Into my open mouth he issues a groan, the vibration of it is so raw, so primal, so needy. In the tangle of our melding I feel everything he gives me - his possession, his love, himself. If I could only hold on to these perfect moments, remember them in the times I doubt I would never lose faith in what we have, in what he so freely gives me.

Despite being out-of-my-mind aroused I sense that this is not that type of kiss. Rather it's an affirmation of the bond between us, like a reminder – offering me sense in my senselessness. I feel him winding it down, bringing it to a close as he gentles the play of his tongue, slowly withdrawing until he ends it with a firm press of his lips to mine. It leaves my mouth tingling, our bonded lips reluctantly pulling apart.

When my lids flutters open I find him watching me, his eyes almost black with desire and he's making a show of it for me. His hooded gaze moves to my bee-stung pout as he brushes them with the pad of his thumb, "We'll finish this tonight," he promises in a sexy-as-fuck rasp.

Again I nod, too dazed with lust to trust my words, drooling an all too real possibility.

"So you're okay with this?" he asks, running his nose along mine.

Swallowing to buy time I shift gears in my mind, "About Jose?" blinking my lashes I risk a peek at him, only to see a rueful smile tugging at my mouth. "I'm not happy about it but I'm not surprised."

When a grin cracks over his face I realise that a stern word might not be out of place here. All things considered Christian isn't above the law. In my very best mommy voice I scold him, "I'm sorry I put you in that position, but I hope you know that what you did was wrong, no matter how justified you felt."

The grin gives way to a full beam, boyish and utterly charming, "Mrs Grey, your concern for my wellbeing does things to me," on a growl he makes as if he's going to bite me, a wicked glint in the slate of his near predatory gaze.

I roll my eyes well before I have a moment to think about it then suck in a quick breath at the change that comes over him. His head drops ever so slightly as he regards me from below the thick line of his lashes, his lids heavy but does nothing to conceal the raw carnality burning in his stare. "Mrs Grey, me and my twitching palm will be only too happy to remind you that being courteous to your husband is a minimum requirement of this marriage." Both his hands round my hips, each finding the cheeks of my ass. His large hands cups then squeezes, almost painfully as his fingers dig deep into the soft flesh.

I moan despite the threat. Any possible fear negated by the grind of his hard length against my always aching sex. I hear him chuckle as my back arches, pushing into him for more, "Always so eager Mrs Grey."

Offering him a shy smile I bite my lip, "Mmmhhh," I agree. "Only for you." The pleasure he takes from my words are plain, encouraging even but when I try to move my hips for more of that mind blowing friction his hands grip me harder.

"Behave Mrs Grey. We're not done talking," he smirks at my pout, my sole effort to make my objection known.

Reluctantly I sit back down, still facing him, "What else would you like to talk about Mr Grey?" I ask tartly. I know I'm pushing him, fully aware that I have this tiger by his skilled tail but what is a girl with needs to do?

He fails to take the bait, knowing me well enough to know exactly what I'm trying to do. "You and that smart mouth of yours will have to wait." With a grin he taps me on the nose with a finger before he turns serious again, "Baby, I really need you to understand that until this is resolved I'm going to rely on your cooperation. You know the drill - **nowhere** alone." His lids narrow into slits, the grey of his eyes turning hard. "I hope I'm making myself clear. I overlooked too much shit with David. I will not be making the same mistake again. Just knowing that I relaxed my guard when I should've been cautious is a jagged fucking pill for me to swallow. We are so damn lucky that nothing happened."

I pushed up onto my knees again, sitting up so I could meet his gaze directly, "I understand. All I ask is that you not keep me in the dark. I also want us to be safe," tilting my head I give him a pointed look, "– all of us."

He nods, mercifully not arguing his inclusion. _Maybe,_ I thought hopefully, _he was_ _beginning to understand his worth to us._ Satisfied I relax, turning to lean back into the circle of his arms once more. Christian shifts in his seat, finding the best mould for our pressed-together bodies. "So the Dom/sub contract, the sniper shot, the flowers, the photos – is there anything else?" I ask quietly, keeping the conversational tone light around a subject that is anything but.

"Taylor is following up on how the person that sent the flowers knew we were married. We suspect that leak came from the Bellagio and if that's the case, the culprit is keeping a very close eye on us. The wedding was so out of the blue, so few people knew about it, and the fact that we didn't arrive to a press frenzy when we got back from honeymoon is proof that we managed to contain the story. We know for a fact that the butler from our Villa was approached for information about us, but according to Taylor he declined."

"How come we're only pursuing that now?" I inquired on a frown.

"We're not only doing it now. Taylor was onto it as soon as we saw the note that came with the flowers but he did stop investigating when we uhm… eliminated the threat. It did strike me as strange that David would offer money for information and not turn on the pressure if someone declined to help. Usually a guy like that would use other methods of persuasion to get what he wanted if a simple bribe didn't yield results. At the time we thought he was being overly cautious not to draw attention to himself but now I think it's because our perp just doesn't have the skillset that normally goes with being a criminal."

"Which neatly ties in with Jose and Linc as the main suspects," I finish, following his thoughts bleakly. Talking like this makes it seem all the more real, and I feel that uneasy knot settling in the pit of my stomach again.

Christian kisses my temple, "Smart and pretty," he mumbles against my skin, but it doesn't draw my usual smile, the compliment losing some of its lustre in the context of our conversation. We fall into a ponderous silence as we nurse our theories and the facts that we're basing them on.

I wonder if Christian will always have his past lifestyle choices levelled against him. Even with the NDA's that all his subs and employees have signed in the past I can't imagine that he's naïve enough to believe that it would be enough to keep his secret indefinitely. Yes, you can sue someone that breaks the agreement but if that person has nothing to lose then suing them just doesn't seem like a big enough deterrent. Apart from these recent leaks Christian has been very lucky so far, and I believe it's only because he always treated his subs and employees so well but that doesn't mean it couldn't still change.

It must be unpleasant, I muse, to have a sword like that hanging over your head. The fear of exposure must always play in the back of your mind. If it was me I'd try to find a way of getting it out on my own terms rather than risk having it leaked in an ugly, uncontrolled media mess. The more I think about it the more the idea draws me as the pieces of a plan start forming in my mind.

"Christian, do you remember that series of sexy fictional books that came out about five years ago? It was written by an English author, and it was wildly successful."

I feel his snort vibrate against my back, "Yes, I remember. Every publishing company in the world remembers and regrets the fuck out of not foreseeing that success. It was the Fifty Shades Trilogy by E L James. BDSM themed as I recall." I smile at the hint of the smirk I hear in his voice then yelp as his hand plunges into my yoga pants to snap the elastic of my thong against my hip. Immediately he soothes the spot by rubbing his palm over the sting. "What about it?" he asks, more than a little perplexed.

"How much do you think it's influenced popular culture? I read somewhere that the sales of the sex toys mentioned in the book boomed and generally awakened a whole generation of woman to the joys of un-vanilla sex."

Christian laughs; the hearty sound natural and genuine. He moves my hair away from my shoulder to drag his bristled chin over the soft skin there, "You better make your point quickly Mrs Grey. Keep mentioning toys and un-vanilla sex and I'll show you a trick or two from the book," he teases.

I giggle, shivering as a race of delicious goose bumps raise the tiny hairs on my arms and legs. Christian takes full advantage, his hand drifting along my arm to feel for himself the results of his ministrations, "Mmmmhhh," he groans, before tweaking a predictably tight nipple over the fabric of my t-shirt.

Playfully I bat his hand away, "Stop it you fiend! How can I make my point if you keep distracting me?"

"I'm sorry Mrs Grey," he apologises sounding anything but. "Please, continue."

"Thank you Mr Grey," I quip, "but you haven't answered my question yet. Do you think it had a big influence on the public's view about the BDSM scene in general?"

He takes a moment to think about his answer before replying, "Yes I do. Generally speaking I think the public became much more accepting of what previously would have been regarded as kinky. In a lot of ways it redefined and greatly expanded on what people considered as "normal", especially as it pertained to sexual behaviour."

"Hhm," I mused, "that's what I thought." _Careful now_, my subconscious cautions, and she's right. At the very least I needed him to give my idea some serious thought before he dismissed it.

My silent ruminations has him suspicious, "What are you up to Mrs Grey?"

At his prompt I turn my whole body around to face him. "I have an idea," I test, my teeth unconsciously gnawing at my lip as I wonder how he was going to take what I was about to suggest. I see his eyes fall on my mouth but I quickly release my battered lip before he can speak, while I take a leaf from his extensive playbook. "But you have to promise to hear me out before you say no."

Quirking a sceptical brow he watches me. I could tell he was talking himself into agreeing before finally giving me a stiff nod. I offer him a reassuring smile when I see the discomfort in his cautious stare, "If your Dom past stays hidden it will always be something someone could use against you but if it's out in the open then that threat is eliminated."

When he starts to shake his head I do the same, reminding him of his promise. He shuts his mouth with a snap but instead of curious the line of it turns hard. I ignore his closed-off expression and plough on, certain that my plan at least deserves to be heard. "If this blog leak is anything to go by the NDA won't necessarily stop someone from blabbing. The last thing you want is a sub spilling the beans to the tabloids before you have your say. You now just as well as I do that the public almost always remembers the first version of a story that breaks."

He nods his agreement but his jaw muscles are bunched, undoubtedly with the strain of keeping his thoughts to himself. "What if you come out of the "Dom closet" so to speak in a soft puff-piece to some hot male publication like GQ? That way you can completely control what's being said as well as the angle of the story. Done well a story like that could be spun into something sexy rather than the reputation damaging thing it would be if it was leaked to an unsympathetic reporter out to prove the corruption of every industry mogul."

Seeing his jaw drop is as pleasing as it is unnerving. I can't tell if he's impressed or mad. "I… I don't know," he stammers, clearly unconvinced.

"You don't have to decide now. Just think about it for a few days. Consider, for a moment, that you may be so caught up in the _why_ and _how _you got started that you don't see the part that would be okay to reveal. You said it yourself, people are so much more tolerant of kink it may actually do your image some good." Getting into my stride I warm to the idea a little more, becoming convinced that it's a great solution for an otherwise sticky problem that will never go away.

At his dubious look I launch the rest of my argument, "Provided we warn our parents with the same edited version of the story," my grin is lopsided, if not also a little rueful. There's no need to share Elena bitch troll's influence here – not even with his parents, "I'm sure the public will lap it up like saucy celebrity gossip we will intend it to be. You'll be a hot topic for a month, and then they'll move on to the next sex tape or scandal that the rags will blow out of proportion. At worst we'll have to deal with a media circus but your PR department will be completely prepared and not railroaded into near impossible damage control."

I can understand his reluctance. This has been a secret for so long I don't think he's ever considered being free of it. He drops his gaze, following my hands as I link my fingers with his. I can almost see the cogs grinding in his head as he thinks through the possibilities of my proposal. "You know that any piece about me, especially one related to anything sexual will inevitably lead to women showing a certain interest?" His full attention is on me now, watching for even the smallest of cues.

If it was any other man I'd laugh at his arrogance but Christian has a point. I can't deny that part of me feels more than a little nauseated at the thought. I can only imagine the myriad of stunning women reading the article, drooling over the inevitable photos that will accompany such a feature, all of them going weak in the knees with lashings of desire for Mr Sexpertise – my husband. A shudder runs through me but I shrug it off. A month tops, I say to myself. Surely I can handle that if the pay-off is a husband that can't be blackmailed?

Meeting his intense scrutiny head-on I fuse my stare with his, blue meeting grey in complete honesty, "I can't say that I'd like it but for what you'll gain it will be more than worth it."

His expression changes, from analytical to admiring, "You would endure that for me?"

I frown, taken aback by his surprise, "Of course."

He breaks out the full HD beam for me, "You never cease to amaze me Mrs Grey." The curve of his mouth is beautiful enough but the thing that really gets me, that makes me catch my breath is the heat in his eyes. When he wants to that schooled impassive emptiness can morph into the most stunning show of emotions, lighting up those deep mercury depths with such fierce love that they glow.

I watch him enjoying my flustered reaction before I manage to smile back, feeling shy of my pinking cheeks. Instinctively I drop my head, casting my eyes down as my inner submissive comes to the fore, "Anything for you husband of mine."

It doesn't go unnoticed by Christian, I hear him suck in a ragged breath. I don't know whether it's the compliant pose or the ring of my words that does it for him but a second later I'm in the crush of his embrace, his whisper almost harsh with his declaration, "Mine!"

After long moments he releases me. His touch as he smooths my hair is tender, reverential. "I'll think about it," he offers. "You've opened my mind to a possibility I never thought was possible, and being free of that past certainly holds a great deal of appeal I just need to think it through, but more than that, I need you to be absolutely sure. I wouldn't even consider doing it if I thought it could hurt you or us in any way. If the tables were turned there would be no fucking way I'd consent to you doing something similar."

I can only grin at my jealous, possessive husband; I wouldn't want him any other way. "Okay," I drawl, keeping my lilt light for my following question. "While I have your undivided attention Mr Grey, can I ask you something?"

Christian chuckles softly, shaking his head, "That question never ends in anything good but I'm guessing if I say no you'll ask anyway."

I give him a small, noncommittal shrug but hold my smile, batting my lashes coquettishly.

Throwing his head back he laughs, but there's an unmistakable nervousness to what should be a carefree sound, "If we ever have a daughter she'll be the death of me. If I can't say no to the mother how the hell will I say no to a mini version of you?"

My heart comes to an abrupt halt, my mind momentarily taken in by his fantasy. I blink a few times, seeing the image of a little girl in Christian's arms, her smile charming, her father - besotted. _Oh boy…_ when I snap out of my daydream I find him watching me expectantly. _Oh yes, my question_.

"Were you Dr Shawn's benefactor?" I ask without preamble, keeping a close eye on his expression.

His smile slips from his lips, his wide eyes turning hesitant again. The change in his face is all the confirmation I need but I still want to hear it from him. It always surprises me that he's so utterly confident in everything he does, so competent yet when it comes to me he's always careful. Knowing that I know he doesn't deny it, "Are you mad?"

"No, just curious about why you didn't tell me."

He lets go of a held breath, and his shoulders relax. "He's not my favourite person to discuss, especially with you. Any man who wants into your panties will always be a problem for me but his cause is something I hold dear and if it gets him out of the way," he shrugs casually, his mouth taking a slight down turn. "I'll call it a win all round." His eyes, when they swing to me, are unapologetic and unrepentant.

"You know that the feelings weren't mutual? There was no need for you to get rid of him. I can't help feeling guilty about the money you've spent. It must've been a small fortune."

He smirks, an arrogant smirk that only he can pull of, "A fucking fortune," he confirms, "and worth every damn cent for my peace of mind, besides," he adds with a wicked wink, "my wife is going to make it big real soon. I think we'll manage."

I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop the un-lady like giggle-snort from escaping, "Only you can get rid of a romantic rival and look good doing it."

*Thank you for the line

**Thank you for reading, please don't forget to review.**

**Chapter 44 to follow.**

_**For in case you're interested I have two more Fifty Shades short stories here on FanFiction (Christmas Meander and Valentine's Meander – both are sequels to Fifty Shades Meander) and an extra one on my blog (Quickie Meander). See my profile for the links.**_


	44. Chapter 44

**Thank you for the valuable feedback and reviews.**

_**To the guest who signed in, asking about Ana's ring tattoo: I do have a picture of it on my blog– the pictures are embedded in the text body of the chapters (see address here on my FF profile). It's quite intricate, very much like a henna design around the finger coming together in the middle with a dot to mark the spot where a regular ring's gem would be.**_

**Chapter 44**

As our conversation winds down I am relieved to find out that I am still allowed to go to work as long as Chris and I go with Christian or our entourage of security which will apparently soon also include a female guard especially for me. I can never accuse Christian of not considering every angle, but I'm grateful more for Chris' sake than my own. He needs to be around friends and he loved the GEH day care. Christian walks me to Chris' room where we find Gail and Chris playing his new favourite game. This iPad version of Tic-Tac-Toe, called Moo-Tac-Toe, features a cute cow and pig as opposed to the traditional O and X symbols, and Chris is fast becoming an expert.

"Mommy, daddy I beat Mrs Taylor!" he crows with excitement when he sees us standing in the doorway.

Gail grins, her smile bright with just a touch of pride, "He did too! Clever little Munchkin!" she exclaims before dragging him close for a tickle.

Her ready love and acceptance of him warms my heart. I can't help wondering if there's a story behind her childlessness. Maybe Taylor's daughter is enough for her, but somehow I doubt it. She's so good at this, so nurturing. She must've considered having a child of her own. Christian needs no invitation to join them on the carpet, making a show of wrenching him from Gail's arms as though she's a monster he has to save Chris from. They laugh hard when Chris is finally freed then hides behind Christian's back. When Gail lunges at him, making a monster noise he runs to duck behind me.

"Save me mommy! Save me!" he squeals, panting from the thrills of fun.

Even Taylor grins when he comes to find Christian, but his undeniable edginess quickly wipes the smiles off our adult faces. Only Chris is oblivious as Christian gets up to sort out whatever crisis has brought him to interrupt such a precious family moment.

"I've got to go champ. Be a good boy and look after mommy and Mrs Taylor." He ruffles Chris' hair before striding down the passage, already engaging Taylor in a hushed conversation. With the men gone Gail and I share a look, the ever present uneasiness going unspoken between us before drawing Chris into another game. Not long after, Gail excuses herself and I settle Chris with his Lego, and the promise of a trip to the Playdate Café while I go see Flynn in the afternoon. I sit with him as he builds a creative looking thing he calls a rocket-castle while I go through more of Julie's thorough notes, making the changes I don't feel the need to argue about. Tomorrow, at the office, we'll thrash out the way forward on the changes that I don't feel is right to make. I love that I already have this kind of relationship with her – easy-going with open and honest communication. Concentrating on my book helps my mind not to wander into the study with Christian and Taylor. Hopefully I'll find out about all the latest drama when we have lunch in an hour. As I e-mail my two revised chapters to Julie my Skype IM pings with a message from Kate.

_***Hi Ana. **_

_**We're looking forward to catching up soon and meeting that little boy of yours. We'll be arriving on Saturday morning but we'll take the day to nap – time zones suck! Elliot mentioned that Christian has been in touch to make a sailing date. How does Sunday sound?***_

_Yay!_ I clap my hands excitedly, the sound drawing a curious Chris who scoots onto my lap to see what I'm doing.

"Hey baby boy," I kiss the back of his head before nudging his head a little to the right so I can see the screen. "This is a letter from mommy's friend Kate. She's married to daddy's brother Elliot and they're coming to see us over the weekend."

"Can I make a letter for your friend?" he asks but already his tiny fingers are tapping out an unintelligible note to her.

_***Njdhslfjfopej ecadjcslck;asc.x,ms/f 4584itjf09uva34qncm zxmzsk;SLDJDHGORBD,**_

_**Aeogrjglhr;kg;gfa;scsnclsNMCALKFWRInvnlfjpaf5kn5yg pbi0iblrm3n4gnkhpodoxjadl;vm***_

"Sure buddy," I smile, wondering what Kate will make of his hieroglyphics. "Well done honey. What does it say?"

Inclining his head to the side he tries to decipher his own scribbles, "Dear mommy's friend. I like toys and chocolate and pizza. Mommy is happy. My name is Chris."

I giggle, enveloping him in both my arms, "That's a good message. It helps to share things about yourself when you want people to get to know you."

The subtle hint for gifts is doubly precious because it's so innocent. Turning his head he smiles at me then looks to the screen when it pings again.

_***LOL! I guess that's him now. Five bucks says his sitting on your lap, curious… How are you little man?***_

"What does it say mommy?" he points to the screen running his fingers along Kate's latest words.

"She says that she can see the message is from you and she wants to know how you're doing," I explain, taken aback by how touched I am by the interaction between the three of us.

"Oh! Oh mommy, tell her I have a rocket-castle!"

Slipping off my lap, he heads back to building his imaginative spaceship thingy – the world of IM conquered in his four year old mind. Smiling, I shake my head at his super short concentration span before returning to Kate.

_***Good guess! He's doing so well. I can't wait to see you either and Sunday sailing sounds perfect. I'll run it by Christian and confirm. Where will you be staying?***_

_***We'll be staying with Grace and Carrick's. We may have some news… **____*****_

_***LOL! I take it you will be torturing me - withholding your news until we see you.***_

_***Yep!***_

_***Thanks a bunch friend!***_

_***Consider it insurance so you don't bail on us again. **____*****_

_Ouch!_ I think at first but then quickly realise that if she's already joking about my spectacular stupidity we're much closer to the forgiveness I so crave from her, well on our way to our old friendship. Trust Kate to smooth the way for our first meeting with a jibe that would be inappropriate and sarcastic from anyone but her.

_***Consider me rooted. **_

_**Thank you Kate.***_

My heart suffers a painful squeeze before swelling with love for my dear, dear friend. I've missed our friendship, that connection you have with someone who knows you well, someone you share a history with - more so because, apart from Flynn and maybe Taylor, she's the only person who knows the details of Christian and my start.

_***You're welcome.***_

I only need to do a little cajoling to get Chris to abandon his building project in lieu of lunch. On our way to the kitchen we pop into Christian's home office to drag him away from his desk. I'm surprised when he joins us readily; snapping shut his laptop with a happy grin when he sees us.

"This makes for a nice change Mrs Grey," he whispers in my ear as he snakes an arm around my waist.

_Huh?_

Smiling down at my confused expression he teases, "You, eating without being prompted."

_Pfft!_ I dismiss his ludicrous claim. "I eat!"

My tartly retort is met with a sound smack on my behind that has me yelping and giggling, not to mention grateful that Chris has already run ahead to meet Gail.

The kitchen counter is bursting with colour. Gail has outdone herself with two delicious looking salads, fresh fruit skewers, a freshly baked wholegrain bread and her famous three bean dip. For her sake I bite back a joke about the lack of fat and sugars, clearly she's only following orders from my overbearing, baby-ready husband.

Christian smirks at me when I cast a longing look at the fridge but at least he has the decency not to have wine himself. During the course of lunch I take a moment to appreciate the family time, enjoying Christian and Chris' light banter.

"What's the plan for this afternoon?" I ask, referring to my appointment time with Dr Flynn. "Chris is really looking forward to his outing."

"We'll take security, Collins can go with you and Carl and I will stay with Chris. You can meet us there when you're done."

I hide my smile by pursing my lips. The thought of Christian in an indoor playground is hilarious. I can already see the wild, shrieking toddlers running around while their frazzled moms hope to take a break by turning a blind eye to their naughty offspring. I'm almost sorry that I'm going to miss it.

"Are you sure?" I don't think he has any idea what he's about to let himself in for.

"Yeah, why not?" he turns to Chris, "Hey buddy, you wanna' come with daddy to the playground?"

"Yay!" Chris beams.

Jumping off his chair he hugs Christian around the waist before bounding out of sight to play. I watch Christian smile after him, looking pleased. _Oh boy,_ I hope for both their sakes that Christian will manage. I can only imagine him unleashing Carl on the playground bully. Christian will make for some interesting gossip amongst the mommies hanging around the Playdate Café. The stunningly handsome billionaire with the burly bodyguard is going to look so out of place they're bound to attract some attention. Brushing aside my concerns, I reassure myself that a hotshot CEO like him will have no problem navigating the social pitfalls of children's playgroups.

With Chris out of earshot I can bring up the sailing. "Kate sent me a message. They're arriving on Saturday. They're keen for sailing on Sunday. Do you still think we should go?"

His look darkens, "We'll be fine with security. I might even get Taylor to follow us with the speed boat." Pressing his lips together, he mulls it over. "Yes, I think we'll do that," he mutters, more to himself. "Let's hope the weather stays fine, I would hate to let Chris down again."

I link my fingers with his where they lay on the table, "I love that you're excited about taking him. In fact I can see it becoming your father-son hobby, but he needs to learn to take life as it comes, the good with the bad."

Looking up, he gives me a wistful smile, "I know. It's just so hard to see him sad. Nothing makes me happier that seeing the two of you happy."

He covers our linked digits with his free hand, the gesture sweet and tender but I sense his mood turning.

"It's the same for me," I confirm, looking down at our hand sandwich.

In an effort to lighten the mood I can't resist doing something I haven't done since I was maybe ten. With a loud smack I slap my free palm onto our hand stack, eliciting first a gasp, then a grin from him as he cottons on. He follows suit, pulling his hand from the bottom of the pile, the sparking glint in his eyes gleaming with wicked intent. He whacks it down onto mine - hard, the sound loud like a wet slap. I yelp at the sting, then laugh at his competitiveness as I take my turn, putting all my weight behind it. Faster and faster we go; the back of our hands red when we dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"I love that sound," Christian says, his expression turning serious again, belying his happy words.

Quickly my smile melts away just as my heart picks up a concerned pace, "What's the matter?"

Shaking his head he slides a hand through his hair, his agitated tell not boding well, "Some tenacious fucking hack followed up on the UN commission inauguration story, it broke today, in a national broadsheet."

_Oh!_ "But I thought the UN pulled all the footage from the net. How much could he possibly have found out?"

Christian lifts a brow at me, "The internet is a very difficult place to clean up. People download things; they store it on their hard drives. Once it's out there it's almost impossible to retrieve every single copy. The feed was cut so if he got hold of the footage it would have been the same part you saw, but for a good reporter that would be more than enough to see that the official press release was a very watered down version of the truth."

"Okay," I drawl, "where exactly does this leave us?"

"Well, apart from the pain of the press camping out on our doorstep for the foreseeable future they won't just stick to the details of the original story. It pays them to keep a big one like this alive so anything, no matter how trivial, will get raised. I hate that our business and private lives will be splashed all over the headlines."

Thinking back to the media circus that was our wedding announcement the first time we got married reminds me of how bad it could be. I hated moving through the throng of boisterous, bating reporters who would say almost anything to get a reaction from you. And they didn't just stick to Christian and me - all our family and friends were fair game in their ruthless pursuit to drudge up any and all titbits they could find about us.

After pushing back my chair I close the distance between us, swinging a leg over his lap to straddle him. I get that, at the heart of this matter, lies his concern for us. Christian is used to the media scrutiny, and most of the time he couldn't care less what they print, but as soon as it involves his loved ones his natural overprotectiveness goes into overdrive.

"I know you'll handle this just as competently as you always do and whatever you need from me, you have it."

He kisses my nose as he bands his arms around my waist, "I just need your patience baby, while we wait for this to blow over."

"Okay," I confirm before nuzzling in to him, my head under his chin.

Christian tightens our embrace, pressing me closer while his fingers sift through my hair.

It feels like a long while before he speaks again, bringing up something new, "I think I might've found a piano teacher for Chris."

I push away from his warm chest, not at all surprised and smiling, "Really? That's great. It will be so good for him. Is it someone you know?"

"It's a friend of Mia's. He's classically trained - Juilliard no less," he flashes me an impish grin on a wink, "but he plays in a rock band. The lessons are a sideline while they wait for fame and fortune. According to Mia he's great with kids, so much so that he has a waiting list."

I can't help returning his grin, amazed at the doors money and influence can open. "Except of course for your child," I tease playfully.

Completely unconcerned about jumping the queue he shrugs, "Mia put in a good word for us."

I walk my fingers up his chest, peeking at him through my lashes, "So you're going to be okay with a young, male rocker in your home with your son and your wife?"

Christian's eyes turn to slits, his demeanour instantly guarded, "What are you trying to say Mrs Grey? Do I have something to be worried about?"

The burn of a flush flames my cheeks. Backtracking slightly I give him the understatement of the year, "No! Of course not but you've admitted it yourself. You can be a little jealous at times."

Grumbling he waves my words off with a dismissive hand, "He's too young for you and trust me, if he doesn't know his place I'd be more than happy to show him."

Mmhh, that's exactly what I'm worried about, but I drop it. Maybe I'm not giving Christian enough credit. I am constantly around Taylor, Collins and Carl - often alone, and he handles that just fine – for the most part anyway.

The rest of the afternoon speeds by, and before I know, it's time to go see Dr Flynn. Just as Christian predicted we encounter a smattering of reporters, already waiting like a pack of wolves, eager to feast on even the smallest smidgen of information. I point to something on the other side of the car to steal Chris' attention away from them while Christian mutters some choice words under his annoyed breath. Collins steps on the gas, clearing them quickly then heads to the Playdate Café to drop the guys. Thinking about what could go wrong on this play date I suddenly feel compelled to dispense some useful advice. Careful not to hurt Christian's pride I go through the rules with Chris on the drive over, hoping that Christian will pick-up on them in the process.

"Buddy, do you remember the rules for when we play with other kids?" I ask him, confident that my constant drilling will have him reciting them off by heart.

"Mommeeee!" he complains, only stopping when he saw my don't-mess-with-me face.

He blows at his bangs, exasperated before rambling off the list with a sing-song voice, "Share, be nice, don't grab and don't eat too much junk food."

Christian and I both laugh, "Well done baby!" I praise.

With a big kiss and a hug we leave them at the entrance of the café while I keep my fingers firmly crossed.

x

Collins escorts me right to Flynn's office door before leaving me in the good doctor's hands. I half expected him to search John's office but instead, finds a seat in the plush waiting area, settling in to wait for the end of my session.

"Ana!" John exclaims, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze before showing me a chair. "It's wonderful to see you. You look so well. I much prefer the person to person contact to the Skype sessions we've been having."

"Thank you Dr Flynn," I smile, equally happy to see him if it meant I was going to get a handle on my nagging guilt and the undermining insecurity that keeps dragging me under in a current of self-doubt. "It's good to see you too."

Once he crosses his legs to make a resting place for his tablet, he turns to me, that genial smile together with his trademark, calming demeanour instantly setting me at ease.

"So Ana, what are we talking about today?"

After filling my lungs with a cleansing breath of air I tell him about Christian and my conversation this morning, concentrating on the part where I automatically assumed the worst.

"Ah yes," he says, understanding sparking is his bright, compassionate gaze.

Thoughtfully he taps his stylus against his chin, "I'm glad you brought that up. It tells me that you see the trend surfacing in your behaviour."

Snorting derisively I lift a brow at him, "If by trend you mean that I do impossibly stupid things because I can't seem to see my own worth then yes, I do."

My words sound harsher than I intend, the anger I harbor for myself obviously mooring deeper in the murky water of my subconsciousness than I realised. Dr Flynn head jerks back, clearly surprised at my outburst and my heart sinks. _How screwed-up am I if I manage to shock my therapist?_

"Yes, that is what I mean, though I wouldn't have put it quite that way," his mouth curves with a small smile, his eyes showing kindness. "But I am a little concerned about the anger you're carrying with you Ana. A bright woman such as yourself must surely see how negatively it will impact on your feelings of guilt."

Looking down I find non-existent pieces of fluff to pick off my skirt. "I do Doctor, I just don't know what to do about it."

My emotions are all over the place, skittering from point to point in a manic game of pinball. First the anger, and now I'm sniffing back those stupid tears.

"That's why you're here Ana, and let me assure you that recognising the problem is a large part of the battle won. Imagine trying to fix something in a patient that doesn't see they have a problem to begin with."

Consummate professional that he is, he has me feeling better in a flash. His subtle way of highlighting the good and softening the blows of the ugly things, offsets the pain from those negative emotions beautifully. It makes it so much easier to open up to him. Pressing my lips together I nod to tell him that I'm okay.

"I want to delve into why you have such a deleterious view about yourself. Let's start by looking at what the world sees when they look at you. In the past, what complimentary things have the people around you, friends or strangers, told you about yourself?"

My cheeks heat into burning red spots, my gaze dropping like it's weighted with lead.

"Uhm… I don't know," I mumble, shrugging my shoulders once.

_Damn shrink!_ I think when my words are met with his patient silence. I can sense his will from where I sit. No way will he let this slide; he'll wait until I give him something meaty. I clear my throat, annoyed at myself for leading us here.

"What Christian and my parents and friends say doesn't really count. They love me. They have to say nice things about me."

I wince hearing the sentence out loud. I sound nothing short of bat-shit crazy, insecure with a good dash of childishness for good measure. Mercifully Dr Flynn takes it in his stride. I am almost surprised when he doesn't bash me over the head with an inflatable hammer.

"Regardless of whether you feel they felt compelled or not, let's play the game anyway."

It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes, "Pretty, smart. You know; that kind of thing." Making a rolling motion with my hand I indicate the synonyms that would go with those terms.

Dr Flynn nods his head, pinning me with narrowed eyes, "Okay, let's go with those examples, but don't think I don't know that they're the very least in compliments you've been paid. And am I correct in assuming that the instances you're referring to are only from Christian or family and friends?"

_Wow, he doesn't give me an inch._ His precise pegging brings more hot heat to my face.

"Yes," I confirm with a small voice, but then feeling indignant I explain, "Strangers don't generally approach me with a shower of complements."

"I hope you're not being deliberately obtuse Ana. People use more than one way to communicate. A stranger might not come up to you and tell you that they find you attractive but there are other social cues that give us an idea of what other people think of us." He holds up a hand to shush me when I open my mouth to protest. "Just so you know I've gotten permission from Christian to use the insights I've gleaned into your relationship from past sessions with him, here with you, and I know for a fact that there were, and still are, many male admirers hovering in the background. Surely you're not completely oblivious?"

_Of course he has,_ I think, irritation starting a slow simmer in the melting pot on my emotions. _Not even at my shrink am I free from his influence._

I snort before stating my case, "Jose hardly counts as many and you know as well as I do that Christian sees every man as a potential threat where I'm concerned. Someone just has to look my way for his jealousy to bloom."

With complete disregard to my statement he simply continues, "Tell me about Ethan."

This time I don't hold back, giving my eyes the roll they've been denied up to now. "Ethan is my best friend's brother. I've known him since forever, certainly well enough to kiss and hug him when I see him. It's only natural that he would reciprocate. I imagine that he thinks of me as a sister."

"Okay then, let's move to a more recent suitor. Dr Shawn O'Reily paid you a fair bit of attention. He bought you an expensive outfit, took you to a very lavish event – something most women would consider a date by the way - and then tried to kiss you. Do you deny that he was attracted to you?"

Inwardly I groan,_ oh boy, give me strength!_ I can't believe Christian sent him a full report on our recent relationship history even though - clearly - I should've anticipated it.

The tenuous grip I have on my frustration falters, the staccato pitch of my voice betraying my incredulousness when I reply, "I don't deny Dr Shawn being attracted to me, but what Christian failed to mention is that the good Doc was a pathological flirt, a man-whore I believe is the term these days."

Dr Flynn doesn't bat an eye, still thoroughly unmoved by my tirade before he drops the biggest bomb of all, "I see. What about your boss at SIP, Hyde was it?" his finger swipes over the screen of his tablet as he scans past files.

_Seriously?_ _**Seriously?!**_ "Hyde was a crazed lunatic!" I all but yell, "A one hundred precent, bona fide psycho! That's akin to admitting the testimony of a drunken person in a court of law. His judgement was seriously impaired! You can't expect me to give credence to that!"

Shrugging casually he taps the stylus against his tablet, "Hyde may be a criminal, his actions fuelled by hatred and jealousy, but insane, he is not. He knew exactly what he was doing, and is perfectly capable of feeling normal sexual attraction."

"He was out to get Christian, and I was a means to an end. A way to hurt his enemy!" I counter, the distress bleeding into my voice as a squeak.

"If you think back carefully, can you honestly say that Hyde didn't show any interest in you before he realised that you were with Christian?"

That shuts me up, my mouth snapping shut with a loud pop. Dr Flynn is watching me from below his lashes, taking note of my every micro expression as I work through my thoughts.

"Okay," I blurt, almost tartly. It's getting harder and harder to keep a good hold on my faculties. "That hardly proves that I'm Venus."

In an exasperated strop I fold my arms across my chest, glaring at the doctor who's gone from respected shrink to quack – at least in my view - over the last thirty minutes, but my dark look is stonewalled, his thick skin impervious to the staring daggers I'm throwing him.

"Now, do you still believe that Christian wouldn't be interested in you if he wasn't so "broken"?" With air quotes around the word _broken_ he asks me the question with which I first revealed my vulnerability to him.

As if to prove to me that they're unstable my emotions do their one-eighty turn once more. I go from angry to heartbreaking sad in under two seconds.

"I honestly don't know," I breathe, my voice reed thin and wavering. "I know he loves me, I just don't know why. Lately though, with Chris in the picture, I think it's because of him."

"You say that in spite of knowing what Christian went through after you left, and before he ever knew he had a son with you."

_Okay, maybe quack was a bit harsh._

"I guess I don't think I deserve his love after what I did so it's hard to accept it."

"Ah. Now we've circled right back to those feelings of guilt haven't we?" The question is obviously rhetorical as he doesn't wait for me to reply. "Can you see Ana, that if you're guilty of anything, it's loving too much. Don't get me wrong," he shakes his head, wagging the stylus like a finger, "what you did hurt both you and Christian, very much, but your motivation was rooted in your love for him. Was it misguided? Definitely, but it was still from love."

He uncrosses his legs, leaning forward. It makes the space between us more intimate, more like a confessional.

"So, if that's the case, the root cause here isn't the guilt but the insecurity. The question you have to ask yourself is **why** you are so insecure? Why, with all the positive reinforcement around you, are you unable to see your worth?"

With the way he's watching me I can see that he's expecting an answer, that he thinks that I ought to be able to draw this conclusion myself, but I've got nothing. Instead I stare at him blankly. Half glad that guilt isn't my problem, my other half entirely confused. _If I knew I wouldn't be here would I?_ I think sarcastically, skirting dangerously close to quack thoughts again.

"Let me ask you this Ana, and don't think about it. Just say the first thing that comes to mind. Do you find it easier to believe a compliment from… say your mom or Christian?"

I don't have to give it more than a second of thought, "My mom," I say quickly; intrigued by the new line he's taken.

"Let's say Ray and your mom?"

"Mom."

"What about Kate and your mother?"

I pause, the answer not popping into my head like the previous two times, "Equally?"

It's part answer, part question. I'm not sure if something other than _yes_ or _no_ is allowed, but Flynn nods, accepting my reply.

"It's a small example Ana but can you see a pattern here?"

Now I feel a little intimidated, _what if I get it wrong?_ "I trust my mother?"

John's easy smile settles my nerves. "That too but I was thinking something more gender specific."

I gasp at the realisation, even over Christian and Ray, the two most important men in my life, I believe kind words about myself more from the women in my life.

_Holy cow!_

"Why?" I wonder out loud, my eyes wide with shock.

"Why do you think?" tilting his head to the side he bats the Psych 101 question back to me in top shrink form.

Slowly I shake my head, looking down as I process the tangle of thoughts and emotions in my head, trying to get it straight. The knowledge that there's only one correct response here doesn't make it any easier to admit.

"I guess I don't trust men," I mumble, shock and shame gluing my gaze to the floor.

"Very good Ana," he encourages. "Now let's see if we can tweak it, make it fit just a tiny bit better. What would you say if I said that you don't trust that you're worthy of the good opinions of men."

The ring of truth in his words dings like a loud bell in my head. My inner goddess is circling a boxing ring, donning a bikini while she holds up a sign that reads _applause_. My subconscious is heading the sign, her clapping echoing like the ovation of a thousand spectators.

_If you knew, why the hell didn't you tell me?_ I want to scream at them.

My rounded eyes drill into him just as my jaw hits the floor. Dr Flynn nods, confirming my colossal insight.

"Let's run with it, shall we? We're on a roll." He shifts in his chair, making a few notes before he finds my gaze just where it's been for the last two minutes, rooted. "To recap, we have guilt from insecurity, insecurity from feelings of worthlessness that pertains to specifically, but not exclusively, to males. Where do you think your feelings of worthlessness stems from?"

I don't even hear his words. Instead I'm watching the reel of my life in my head. The man that should've loved me but couldn't because he died, the man that loved me like a daughter in spite of not being his flesh, but found it so hard to express that love, and the hard man that, albeit very briefly, stole my mother away in a time where, if I had her, I might have gotten over the loss of that father I never knew…. My father, or fathers – the male role models in my life. _Oh my_ _-_ _I have daddy issues…._

The scales slide away from my eyes as reality crashes its way into my private thoughts. First in the background but then more persistently, I hear the sing-song sound of my name as John calls me.

"Ana, Ana!... Ana?"

Blinking away the remnants of my mental images, I focus on him once more, "I have daddy issues," I announce with all the stunned grace of a five year old.

Flynn chuckles, his eyes kind, "I don't believe "daddy issues" is regarded as an official term in my field but we can go with that if you prefer."

I blush - hard. Of all the times to have a brain-to-mouth filter malfunction I chose my epiphany moment, and in front of a doctor I know is a stickler for terms. His sincere smile is the only thing keeping me from crawling under the couch, but for the moment I don't possess the courage to meet his benign gaze.

"Ana," his voice is gentle, coaxing, willing me to look up, "I'm thrilled at the progress you've made today. You should be proud of yourself. You're done remarkably well."

I risk a peek, not missing the fact that he uses the term _us_ when he refers to the dialogue between us but gives me the credit for the progressive insights even though he is the one leading me there. My heart contracts with a squeeze of gratitude. I can hardly believe that at times during this session I was mad at him enough to claw out his eyes.

"Did you know?" I ask suddenly, the question taking even me by surprise.

He shrugs, "I suspected. The fact that you chose to stay with Ray was extremely telling, especially during those difficult teen years when you make the transition from being a girl to becoming a woman. Fifteen, sixteen is a very impressionable age, and a time most girls want to spend with their moms, if only to argue with them."

Again he smiles, but this time with a twinkle because of his joke.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Collins and I make our way back to the Playdate Café in silence, my world too rocked to make small talk. I haven't even had a moment to think about how Christian managed with Chris, but Collins reminds me when his words penetrate my inner musings.

"Mrs Grey?"

Startled from my daydream I meet his gaze in the rear view mirror, "Hmm?"

"Mr Grey said not to bother to go in, he'll be meeting us outside. I've let him know that we're on our way."

"Okay," I say easily. I'm not surprised. Sometimes just the noise in those places is enough to make you want to cut off your own ears.

As if on cue Christian, with a smiling Chris in his arms, and Carl exit the doors just as Collins double parks to pick them up. I slide to the middle of the back seat to secure Chris in his booster seat while Christian rounds the SUV to climb in beside me.

"Hey baby…" he starts but Chris is already yakking at a hundred miles a minute.

"Mommy, mommy, I had a play and I made a friend and we played racing cars and I fell but I didn't cry because I'm brave and daddy gave me junk! He said not to tell you so I won't."

Christian and I both laugh, him throwing his hands in the air in mock exasperation, "Champ, you just told her!"

Chris tamps a hand over his mouth, looking guilty but drops it quickly when he sees that his dad is joking.

Mid laugh Christian captures my chin, turning my head toward him, "No kiss Mrs Grey?"

Closing the gap between us I brush my lips against his full mouth, "I'm sorry Mr Grey, your son sort of took over that moment."

He hmphs, but his eyes remain smiling.

"So what kind of junk did daddy get you?" I ask, quirking a questioning brow at Christian before turning my attention to Chris.

"Junk food!" he exclaims, clapping his hands together in true toddler sugar-rush glee.

"Ah I see. So let me guess," tapping my finger on my chin I play at having a deep think. "Maybe ice-cream?"

"Yessss! With chocolate sauce! And somefing else!"

"Something else as well?" The note of mock dismay thrills him, making him grin and nod manically.

"Can it be French fries?"

"Yes! Yes!" he squeals. "And more!"

"More?" this time the horror in my voice is not so playful but edging towards worried.

"Uhm, let me see…"

I peek at Christian as he watches us with an indulgent smile. Who would have thought, Mr Über Healthy letting Chris indulge.

"Was it spaghetti?"

"Nooooo!" he laughs, delighted that I got it wrong, but at the same time beside himself with keeping the news to himself, almost bursting with it.

"A hotdog?"

"A whole hotdog mommy! A whole one!" He moves his little hands apart indicating a grossly exaggerated hotdog size, about twenty or so inches.

'Wow!" Rounding my eyes I go along with his excitement but inside I cringe. _Oh boy! All of that after a full lunch?_ That's a recipe for toddler tummy disasters.

Looking to my other side, I find my husband's amused gaze, too warm and tender to shatter so I swallow my cautionary words, and hold my thumbs, placing all my hope in Chris' gastric fortitude.

Chris' recount of the afternoon is cute and animated, only marred by the tumble he took. By the squeeze my hand gets from Christian when Chris tells the story, I take it that my son weathered it much better than his father. I squeeze back, giving Christian a reassuring smile when Chris' loud groan draws my attention back to him.

"My tummy hurts mommy." Crossing both his arms over his little belly he moans as a spasm wracks his body. Christian sits forward in his seat, watching him with a panicked expression.

"Oh baby," I soothe, not at all surprised, "we'll be home in two minutes. Just hang in there buddy."

"What's wrong champ?" Christian enquires, genuinely oblivious.

I can't be mad at him. The joy of seeing your child enjoy a treat is a wonderful gift to a parent, more so for Christian who has been denied the privilege for so long, but he needs to learn what Chris' little body can and can't take.

"He'll be fine, it's just some stomach cramps. I've got some antispasmodic medicine for him at home."

Keeping a close eye on Chris I hear Christian's hard intake of breath behind me, "It was too much wasn't it?"

Still holding Chris' hand I catch Christian's concerned frown, "Don't blame yourself. It's happened to me too. Toddlers aren't so good at knowing when to stop." Smiling I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers. I can only imagine how bad he must feel, and as always, I'm more than eager to give him the comfort he needs right now.

Just then Chris whimpers again, deepening the worry lines on Christian's face, "Shouldn't we take him to the hospital?"

"If it doesn't get any better then yes, but let's just wait and see if the medicine helps."

I know there's no point in explaining this to him, he's way too invested in Chris' wellbeing to see clearly. Moreover I understand just how he feels, when Chris was a baby I used to be completely paranoid when he got sick or hurt, always thinking the worst, but as your children grow you develop a sense of when something is serious or not.

We arrive at Esacala and this time I don't have to distract Chris from the hordes of reporters that seem to have grown in numbers. Mercifully Christian doesn't notice them either, not even sparing them a glance as Collins drives into the parking garage.

Before the SUV has come to a complete stop Christian is out of the vehicle, making his way to Chris' side of the car with a determined stride. With a tenderness that belies his tense expression he picks him up, cradling him to his chest like a baby. Chris nuzzles into Christian's shirt as if the smell of his dad will bring him comfort. I watch Christian watch him as he grows more concerned for his pale son. He all but jogs to the elevator; impatient now to get him home. Leaving the security team to catch up we ride the car to the apartment with me, trying to curb my husband's rising anxiety.

Three strides into the foyer I see Chris lurch then bring up the contents of his treat meal over the front of Christian's $400 Armani, button down shirt. Christian freezes mid step, horrified. For a moment he looks bewildered, utterly helpless then, to his amazing credit, he drops to his knees, turning Chris around so he won't choke on his vomit. The smell is overpowering, the pieces of unidentified food drips off his front but he rubs Chris back while the involuntary shudders rid him of every last thing in his belly.

Christian looks deeply concerned, not fazed at all by the fact that he's surrounded by puke. His designer shirt and pants surely ruined by the bits of partially masticated hotdog and French fries and whatever else. The sight of him caring so intimately for our boy is deeply moving.

Looking up he catches my eye, "Baby, go draw him a bath," he instructs, calm now that he's taken charge. "Get his medicine ready and then please bring us something to clean up."

Just then Gail shows up, hearing Christian's instructions. Summing up the situation she jumps into action. "Ana," she says in her brisk, efficient manner, "I'll get the bucket and some rags, you get the bath ready."

Turning on my heel, I race down the passage to fill the bath, hoping that the warm water will do his aching belly some good. A minute later I get the antispasmodic syrup from the child-proofed cabinet, measuring the dose carefully, then return to my guys. On my way I pick up a bin liner, certain that the stain on Christian's shirt will never come out. When I join them Chris is already looking better, still pale but at least now standing on his own.

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?"

He nods, looking at the mess around him, "I'm sorry mommy. I'm sorry daddy," his bottom lips starts a telling quiver but Christian is quick to comfort him.

"Champ you were sick. You don't have to be sorry. I'm sorry I gave you too much eat."

Winking at Christian I hand him the bin bag while I help Chris get out of this soiled clothes. Christian shrugs out of his shirt then dumps it in the bag along with his shoes and socks. Strangely he keeps his pants on, as he normally wears boxers I assumed that the slacks would go in the liner as well, but I don't give it another thought as Gail starts the clean up around us.

"Go," I wave them away, "rinse him in the shower then put him in the bath. His medicine is on the bathroom counter."

Once he's wiped the worst off the front of his slacks he picks Chris up and heads to the shower. It's strange to have someone other than my mom help me with such an unpleasant task but Gail insists on helping so we finish quickly, chatting quietly about how well Christian managed the situation. As always, my husband's competency knows no bounds.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

After the big clean-up and putting a much better albeit exhausted Chris to bed, Christian excuses himself for an hour's work while I take the quiet moment to reflect on my day. Listening to Lifehouse's All In, I draw inspiration from the lyrics for my future with Christian:

x

_But you know it's alright I came to my senses_

_Letting go, of my defences_

_There's no way I'm giving up this time_

_Yeah, you know I'm right here_

_I'm not losing you this time_

_And I'm all in, nothing left to hide_

_I'm falling harder than a landslide_

_I spent a week away from you last night_

_And now I'm calling, calling out your name_

_Even if I lose the game I'm all in_

_I'm all in tonight _

_Yeah I'm all in_

_I'm all in for life…_

I feel good, if not a little bewildered about the progress I made with Flynn today. I just have to keep reminding myself that the worst is over. I know what I'm dealing with, now. I just need to fix it.

Christian drags my thoughts away from my emotional growth as he strolls into the room, casual but unmistakably predatory. The informal jeans and t-shirt covering his flexing muscles adds a sexy layer of intrigue that I'm keen to peel off. Watching him move, especially with that hungry look in his half lidded eyes has me shivering in anticipation. My body responds naturally, inevitably to his masculine presence, the thin t-shirt I'm wearing quickly betraying my need, outlining the swelling tips of my breasts. His eyes drink in the sight, stoking the intensity of the desire I see there. Reaching for the iPod dock remote he selects a new song, all the while watching me, his frank and appreciative gaze heating me, making me squirm.

x

As Snow Patrol's Open Your Eyes fills the electrified space he speaks, "Four more days Mrs Grey.

His words curl through me, weighted with the promise of a child's conception. My lips part, accommodating the increased need for breath as I feel my pulse spike. I catch his devilish smirk, his deft fingers drawing my attention as he unbuttons his jeans before he drops it, sans underwear.

I hear my own startled gasp, "Going commando Mr Grey?"

At the sound of my giggle he launches himself at me. After this morning's insecurities, intent - I'm sure – on showing me just how much he wants me.

**Chapter 45 to follow**

**Thank you for reading, please don't forget to review!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Thank you - as always - for your reviews and continued support.**

**As yet this chapter is unedited, please excuse mistakes, I will repost when it's done.**

**Chapter 45**

Because of the ever growing pack of reporters camping outside our building, and a few very resourceful ones that manages to make it to the ground floor reception desk, Christian declares our Wednesday a work-from-home day. I don't mind. With a long list of rewrites to do for Julie I've got plenty on my plate. Also, this afternoon Chris will be starting his piano lessons, and even though I don't want to cramp my little boy's style by hover around him, I'm still desperately keen to see how it goes.

Christian is holed up in his office, his black mood all but leaking from the gap at the bottom of the firmly shut door. Fending calls and e-mails from the steering body of the Commission on Sustainable Development, his press department, and for all I know, the president of the US, we all give his study a wide berth. Taylor is the only one to brave the space that's practically humming with irritation. By twelve thirty I consider sending him a text invitation to join us for lunch instead of knocking in his door but as the erotic images of the night before flash through my mind I find the courage to go myself.

Forcing my timid knock into something a tad more confident I walk into his office, bright smile pinned in place to hide my nerves. I get the hold-on-a-minute finger as he issues a series of barks to the poor sod in the other end of the line before slamming the receiver down with an angry groan. The second his eyes find mine the steel in his gaze melts, the windows of his soul needy with their call for comfort. The change in his demeanour dramatic as it's flattering.

"Baby," he beckons, opening his arms as he pushes himself away from his desk.

My smile goes from uneasy to beaming. All but skipping into his invitation, he laughs when I fling myself into his arms, "We've missed you," I confess, threading my hands through his hair.

Turning his head he nuzzles into my neck, taking a long pull of the scent I know is concentrated there, "Mmmhhh, me too. Did you come to get me for lunch?"

"I did, but I'll settle for a minute more of this if you're too busy." Knowing just how thinly he's spread I'm not about to add any pressure to his day.

He scrapes his teeth along the edge of my jaw, "Maybe I could do you one better..."

Giggling, I pull away from him, "I'll take that bet. Show your hand husband."

He grins, arching a playful brow, "How about I see your cuddle and raise you lunch?"

Dropping my gaze I look at him through my fluttering lashes, "Mr Grey, are you talking poker to me?"

He laughs, a sexy, low throaty laugh, "I guess I am. And maybe I have one for you too," he purrs. Tilting his hips I feel the press of something suspiciously like a poker beneath the soft swell of my rear.

"Mr Grey!" I squeal on a gasp before feeling the heat sweeping over my cheeks and down my neck.

Chuckling he lifts me to my feet, righting my skirt in the process, "I love scandalising you." With a quick kiss followed by a sharp slap on my behind he sends me on my way, "Let's go have some lunch."

Apart from the line of tension in Christian's shoulders you would never guess the strain he's under. He eats with us, chatting and joking just like he always does. I can only admire his ability to compartmentalise his roles. After yet another scrumptious feast that looks like it would shame a nutritionist's choice, Christian leaves me with the plans for the house on the Sound to pour over. While he and Taylor ensconce themselves in the study, I make notes in the margins of the architectural drawings. The dining room table is the ideal place to spread them out and I'm soon lost in the task as my head swells with ideas. I can already imagine an outside play area for Chris, running around in the meadow, me sitting against a tree reading for him. It will be like a park in our own back yard. Being stuck in a high rise apartment all day is not the best place for a little boy to be.

Christian's raspy voice makes me jump just as his large hand gently skims the curve of my rear from where I'm bent, leaning over the table, "Mmmhh, maybe I should have you look over all my plans," he purrs, running the flat of his hand up my spine until he cups the back of my neck.

I smile to myself, holding my pose, enjoying the stirring against my backside, a dead give-away of his scarcely waning interest. "I'd be more than happy to look over any of your plans Mr Grey."

He growls a low, slow groan, running a single lazy finger down my back. Starting at the nape of my neck, between my shoulder blades, down, down, down he goes, past the waistband of my skirt, sliding it along the valley between the globes of my ass that's visible as a dip in the fabric of my skirt as it spans over the curves there – my thong offering zero resistance for his mischievous, plunging digit. A shudder fires through me, the tingles converging in my centre, the unexpected intrusion making me jump. Turning around I graze the straining front of his slacks, first with my hip then with my belly as I straighten myself against him. I revel in the gruff catch of his breath in his throat. I rest my hands on the sides of his chest, the heat of him making me warmer that the dreary day outside should allow.

Looking up, into those clear pools of mercury that always shimmers with so many depths I give him a coquettish grin, "It's nice to see you too Mr Grey, I wasn't expecting to be graced with your beautiful self so soon." It's been two hours since lunch; with his current workload I figured we'd be lucky to see him at dinner time.

At my words his lids grow heavy, weighted, before he rests his forehead against mine, "Tell me you love me."

"I do. I love you more than life," I declare on a breath, my hand going up to cup the granite angle of his jaw. My insides twist with unease, his mercurial shift oddly out of place in our day of saucy banter. A few seconds later his need for affirmation becomes clear as Collins escorts the piano teacher into the great room, breaking up our intimate exchange.

Seeing him I get a sinking feeling in the well of my belly. Why Christian thought this was a good idea I don't know. He looks every inch the young rocker with his dirty-blond hair, a good few inches too long, and artfully styled in that sexy, mussed-up way, the fingers of which falls so that he has to peek through them. His eyes are soulful, green but heavily flecked with grey and brown, giving me the impression that they change colour along with his mood. He's rocking a designer stubble, no doubt to make him look older than the very early twenties he appears to be in and if offsets a stunningly full mouth that I'm convinced already fuels many teenage girl's fantasies. He's tall and lean, built like a runner and wearing a faded t-shirt with jeans that's seen better days.

x

"Mr Grey, Mrs Grey, Matthew Reeves," he confirms with his introduction. "Mr Reeves is here for Chris' piano lesson."

Christian steps forward, rather aggressively, extending a hand to the young man while, with his other arm, he pins me to his side, "Christian Grey and this is my wife, Mrs Grey." There's a distinct emphasis on the word _wife_ that only a deaf man could miss and of course, calling me Mrs Grey will be a constant reminder that I'm very much taken. That, coupled with the pointed look he gives the poor guy, it's no wonder he can hardly mutter a coherent reply.

"Uhm.. Mr Grey," he shakes Christian proffered hand, darting his eyes nervously between the two of us.

My blush, I'm sure, resembles the same red as wine. It can only end badly if my precious husband stops just short of peeing on me to complete his alpha-male show of possession in front of a guy that, though attractive, does nothing for me. I sense Christian's interested gaze on my profile, measuring my reaction to Matthew. Sensitive to the situation I offer him a reserved smile and a little finger-wave, but I don't dare touch him, "Hello Matthew, welcome to our home."

He looks down, clearly feeling out of his depth. "Mrs Grey," he greets me with a coy mumble. "It's Matt, please." A timid smile plays on his wide mouth before lifting his muddy-green eyes to Christian's again. "I'm a fan," he says shyly to him, pinching the front of his t-shirt on either side so the _"__**There's No Planet B**__"_ logo it bears is visible.

x

Christian grins, his cool demeanour defrosting a tad, "Good to know. She needs all the help she can get." Turning to me he places a tender yet calculated kiss on my lips, lingering long enough to dispel any possible notion that Matt might still harbour about my availability. Smirking he looks at me, thoroughly pleased that he's made his point, "Will you go get our son?"

I bite back a giggle bubbling up on a whim of incredulousness, all the while fighting the roll that's been threatening my eyeballs for the last five minutes, "Sure," I say, way too sweetly before turning on my heel to retrieve - not Chris - but _our son_. Why he doesn't just tattoo _taken_ onto my forehead is beyond me. My inner girls are glaring at me, hands on hips, the warning on their pouty lips echoing my own sentiments – it's obvious I need to keep my distance from the young, hot piano teacher.

Thinking better of watching Christian settle the two of them with the baby grand I retreat to the library leaving the door open so I can at least hear my boy's first lesson. Christian wishes them well and I assume, takes his leave to continue working, but a scant three minutes later he joins me in the library, laptop in hand. A small part of me can't help thinking it's to keep an eye on me.

With a carefully neutral tone and a bland expression to match, he pops a hip against my desk, "What do you think of Matt?"

Caution rings like a bell in my head when I sit back to give him my full attention. "He seems friendly enough. I'm mostly curious to see how he gets along with Chris."

Christian nods his agreement, choosing to remain still so we can listen to the pair of them. I'm still feeling disconcerted with his choice of teacher, to me it seems like a disaster waiting to happen and I toy with the idea of bringing it up again when he breaks into my thoughts as though he reads them, "I thought it would be good for me. Here, where all the variables are controlled, I might learn to get a better handle on my jealousy."

A clench curls around my heart, the ache it brings the same one I always feel when I'm faced with the dark shades of his wretched past, triggering a powerful nurturing instinct. Rising I slide my arms around his narrow hips, my features arranged with sincerity, "There's nothing about you I want to change."

Eagerly he reciprocates the cuddle, giving me a boyish smile, "I'm happy to hear that Mrs Grey because I think I'm failing miserably."

With the tip of my finger I trace the full sculpt of his lips, watching the slow path I take, "You have nothing to be jealous of. I am so completely yours, utterly taken by you…"

"But?" he probes gently, hearing my unspoken word.

"I just don't see the point of deliberately torturing yourself. We have enough to deal with." To ease any possible sting I switch from fingertip to lips, moulding mine to his with a gentle press.

"Let's give it some time," he suggest, his low baritone perfectly pitched for seduction.

His whisper is followed by his head, leaning in to give me more than the soft peck I left him with. Tilting my head I let him take my mouth with a slow kiss that's almost sleepy, his tongue brushing mine with idle, long laps. With our son yards away I get that, for now, this kiss doesn't have the potential a private one has, but I luxuriate in it anyway, giving myself over to the drugging oblivion of getting lost in Christian's warm mouth.

I feel dazed when he finally pulls away, his crooked smile lazy, "I have something to show you." Motioning for me to sit he moves my PC away to replace it with his own.

Peering at the screen I see a magazine article featuring, amongst others, Julie Logan. By the heading: _Women In Publishing: The Stars Of The Editorial Corporate Ladder,_ I can see it's great press blurb for Grey Publishing, "That's wonderful publicity. Which magazine is running the article?" Meeting his intent slate gaze that's not left my profile since he showed me the spread, I wonder if I'm missing something. I feel the crawl of heat over my cheeks, an uncertain smile tugging at my lips. _What's with his intense stare?_ The colour in his eyes is almost liquid with wild emotions, seizing my breath from my lungs.

Before I can ask his face splits into a beam, like the rays of the sun, melting my sudden unease. Lowering his mouth to mine he feathers a kiss over my lips, holding me in place by my chin.

"What?" I blurt, almost giggling as I shake my head in a daze.

"It's in the current issue of Elle Magazine but it's not a planned plug for GP. Julie was approached by them, I gave her the okay. It was meant to be about her and what it meant for her career to be poached by Grey Publishing but I want you to read her _favourite project_ quote." With a jut of his chin he guides my look back to the screen. Speed reading through the start I get to the section he's so keen for me to see:

"_**..It's hard to pick just one. I've been involved in so many wonderful projects over the span of my career. I've been lucky enough to work with a slew of acclaimed authors, and young first-time writers that blew me away, but I've never been as excited as I am about the project I'm working on at the moment. Without giving too much away, I'm overseeing a brand new author whose literary interpretation of contemporary romance is going to change the face of it entirely. We've already managed to secure a whole series from her so let me say this - watch this space…"**_

I look to Christian as he's bent over the back of my chair, his head next to mine, then back at the monitor, blinking. My heart's race is a little tentative; unsure if a full celebratory sprint is in order yet. _Could this mention be about me?_

Christian sees the disbelieving question in my stunned expression, "She's referring to you," he breathes, tapping me on the tip of my nose with his finger.

"How do you know?" I ask stupidly.

Quirking a brow at me he grins, "Well now. Let me see… Maybe the fact that she has no other female authors on her roster right now; and that I just may have been on the money when I told you what I saw in your work."

My heart takes off, with full permission from my gorgeous husband and his beatific, smug smile. "I didn't know she felt that way," I murmur, still blinking up at Christian with wondrous surprise before realisation tears through me like a claw.

I've been through a rebirth, a baptism of fire with Ana 2.0 as testimony as I fought to get Christian back, making a commitment to him, to myself, to our loved ones that I would do better. That, together with my leap of understanding directed by John's skilled, silver tongue, I grasp that I can take what most people say to me at face value provided I vet the source. It's a startlingly simple concept, clear, but one my jaded senses blurred with insecurity.

I gasp and laugh, suddenly giddy with insight, "I…, I…, That's…, It's…" a thousand words rush into my mouth. Like honey they sit on my tongue, thick and sweet but I can't seem to pick one so I stand instead, staring at Christian with eyes so wide and bright I must look like a doe.

His answering laugh is as happy as it's perplexed, "It's wonderful?" he tries, offering me a fitting phrase.

I find myself nodding, my hands cupped over my mouth, my thoughts zapping through my mind, buzzing with currents of awareness as my brain forges new pathways, making fresh connections.

"I love you," I finally manage to blurt, completely off topic though it's still oddly apt. That part of my heart, until now guarded by fear suddenly springs free, open to accept the kind words of those who care enough to give them freely - like gifts.

Christian senses the shift in me. His eyes, sparkling like silver, is fused in fascination to mine, "I love you too," his voice a raspy breath as he cups my head in both large hands, still smiling, still frowning.

With inadequate words I try to explain, "I…, I had a moment."

He chuckles, amused and awed, "Yes, I can see. You look alive with it, glowing."

His stare doesn't waver. Drinking me in, one hand slips to bracket my neck, the pad of his thumb resting on the ecstatic jump of my pulse, the other stroking my hair. Captivated I watch what he feels for me change the shade of his eyes. The bright gleam of silver turns to pewter then shifts to the solid weight of lead, the dense metal cramming molecules the way his being is packed tight with love for me. Overjoyed I see it. I see it like I see the light of day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

After dinner and putting an overstimulated toddler to bed Christian leaves me with a kiss on the forehead and a command to not wait up before holing up in his office for late night stretch of work. I refuse to be concerned about it; refuse to second guess his honest words and fall asleep holding onto my newfound confidence like it's a super power.

Thursday morning I wake up alone, the rumpled sheets on Christian's side evidence that he at least had some rest. Wandering to the kitchen, I'm drawn by the sound of my little boy's incessant, happy chatter.

With a hug from behind I kiss his hair where he sits on the edge of the counter, "Good morning buddy." Over his head I take in the state of the kitchen, my eyes bugging with shock. It looks like Christian set off a bomb of bread and all its possible fillings.

"Mommy, daddy is making me lunch for day care!"

Rounding the counter corner I make for my awfully smug husband, doing my best to supress the gape my jaw wants to drop into, "Wow," I exclaim over my shoulder, overwhelmed by the mess, "that's great honey." Pushing up on my toes I brush a distracted kiss along Christian's cheek, "Good morning Mr Grey," I murmur, my voice still rough with sleep. "I take it we're going to work today?"

He hugs me to him with the crook of his arm to avoid smearing me with his coated fingers, "Yep," he says, pride glowing in his eyes as they dart from the cutting board to me, willing me to follow.

I clock the Saran wrapped abomination in front of him, coming to the realisation that he's pleased as punch with his culinary effort. _Oh boy!_ Christian may be supremely skilled in many things but master of the kitchen he is not. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to give in to the snorting giggles threatening to bubble from my belly. The two sides of the sandwich cannot be called slices; rather they resemble very poorly formed bricks. Off to the side are his previous efforts, maybe two loaves worth, and it becomes clear why he chose these particular two. The bread knife, evidently used in the style of a hacksaw lies discarded to one side. Each skew brick of bread sports a loosely hanging top crust where his strong fingers poked through the spongy dough while he held it down to murder it. Through the plastic wrap I can see the filling, peanut butter spread as thick as mortar with gooey purple jelly squishing from the sides like worms. I don't think Chris' hands are big enough to hold the thing let alone take a bite from it. How do I tell him that his own day care centre doesn't allow food to be wrapped in plastic – their small contribution to help our planet, and that it's a strict nut free zone due to the growing number of allergic children?

"Wow," I say again, stalling so I can think of a nice way out. By the look on his face he's expecting high praise for his selfless, parental act. "Thank you. That's very helpful of you. I should have said something before, there's no way you could've known, but we aren't allowed to take anything containing peanuts or tree nuts to day care. Too many kids are allergic these days so most schools and day care centres play it safe," I explain, pressing my lips together in what I hope is a sincere, disappointed face.

"Aaahh!" Chris gasps, "Daddy made a lot of hard work for nofing!"

"Oh," Christian says, surveying the messy counter like he's seeing it for the first time. "That's okay champ, I'll make you something else." Picking up a discarded slice of bread he eyes it dubiously, the crust hanging limply from the top.

I'm struck by how sweet he's being, touched by it really, but I don't think another unsupervised attempt is on the cards for him. Gail would faint if she sees this mess.

"Buddy, why don't you go brush your teeth while I help daddy." I lift him off the counter and he scrambles to the bathroom, informing us that he'll be back soon.

Next I face my adorable husband, "I'm sorry about your sandwich. I love that you did that for him." I run my knuckles along his rough jaw, loving the scrape of the perpetual shadow against my skin. "Thank you, you did so well. Do you want to stay and help me make another?"

Mercifully the doubt leaves his eyes just as a grin tugs at the corner of his sinful mouth, "If you can salvage anything from this fiasco I'd like to see it."

It's my turn to look smug, accepting his challenge with glee, "Watch and learn Mr Grey." Knowing how much he hates to waste food I grab hold of the blender, placing it before him with a pile of his bread bricks, "Break these up into chucks then blitz them in the blender. It's always good to have crumbs and they freeze very well."

"Crumbs?" a quizzical eyebrow arcs with scepticism.

"You know, for coating things like fish or chicken." Taking the thickest of his slices, I carefully run the breadknife through its sides to divide it into three normal slices.

I can tell by his rapt attention that he's impressed. I explain every step as I go, just casually enough to let him think I'm only making conversation: butter first to lock in moisture, something dry against the inside of the slices to prevent the bread from getting soggy and the wet stuff in the middle. Once I place the second slice on top I trim the edges then slice it into four triangles, just like Chris likes it. Lastly I wrap it in waxed paper, showing him how to fold the middle and sides with sharp corners. I add sliced apple and craisins to his lunchbox, each item going into a separate little compartment along with a small water bottle.

"Voila!" Smiling I hold out the cartooned lunchbox for him to admire.

"Clever Mrs Grey," he says, his voice hitching with a catch he plays off with a wink.

I bask in his obvious appreciation, gifting him with a full beam and delighted with myself that I can accept the compliment he so earnestly gives.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Apart from battling reporters on our way out of Escala and around Grey House my day is calm and wonderfully productive under Julie's expert tutelage. I'm pleasantly surprised with some of Derek's ideas, especially considering that romantic fiction is probably not his first choice in literature. I also get to know him on a slightly more personal level as the dark haired assistant shares some of his funnier, love-life woes with me. An hour after lunch Chris and I head home for his piano lesson.

We find Gail in the kitchen, and while she rustles up a snack for Chris, I regale her with Christian's kitchen shenanigans, both of us going over all gooey over Christian's efforts to be a normal dad.

When Matt arrives I make myself scarce, mindful of keeping myself from the trouble that sometimes seems to follow me regardless of how hard I try to avoid it. Instead I finish a few more chapters while I listen to Chris' tentatively tapping at the ivory keys under Matt's patient instruction.

The moment Christian steps into the foyer Chris rushes into his arms with chatty tales about his day. I get a meaning full look, the salacious promise it holds for later sending a reviving charge though my body when he drops a kiss on my lips. We share dinner before Christian takes Chris for his bath and I grab a shower myself.

While I wait for Christian I draw myself a cup of Chamomile tea and settle on the couch with music and a book. The random song the iPod picks is beautiful, Lights by Ellie Goulding, and fits my mood perfectly.

X

Even Christian's gait drips of sin when he comes to join me, more prowling than walking he watches me with weighted lids and darkened eyes that say everything about his intentions. In a matter of seconds the space between us fills with a coiled charge, taut and volatile with sexual potential. I feel his stare on me like a velvet rake, my blood heating, rushing to the surface of my skin, pooling in places where I become needy for his touch.

"Two days," he all but growls as he holds out a hand for me to take.

Obliging I let him pull me off the couch, right up against the hard press of his muscled chest. Without volition my hands skate up his front, slipping into the satiny strands of his hair. Blinking I fight to keep my breath even, the short, choppy rasps of my lungs only serving to heighten my senses as my puckering nipples get teased by the crush of our embrace. Instinctively I lift my head, giving him access to the soft flesh of my neck. Greedily he takes advantage, biting, licking, sucking a hot, snaking trail to my chest.

On my shoulder he plucks the thin strap of my ankle-length, silk slip off my shoulder with his teeth, "I like you in silk baby," he confesses with a gravelly voice before swirling his wet tongue in the hollow of my collar bone.

Pleasured noises I can't control spill from my throat when he cups my rear, grinding the apex of my thighs onto his tight quad. He answers me with a rumbling groan when he pulls away enough to feast his hungry gaze on my exposed breast, "I can't wait to suck the milk from your swollen breasts."

My lids flutter, tantalising shivers chase desire on a zip line to my sex, filling, swelling, whetting.

"Come," he commands thickly, not that I have a choice when he lifts me into his arms to carry me to the haven of our bedroom.

With a kick he closes the door before laying me onto the bed with a gentleness that belies the animal need I see in his hooded stare. Straightening again he takes a moment, adjusting the lighting to a soft glow and selecting a playlist from the iPod dock. The sensual beat of David Usher's Black, Black Heart pulses in time with the pound of my heart.

X

Slowly, with raw need plain in his eyes and the severe strain of his erection against the front of his pants he unrolls the sleeves of his crisp, white, button down shirt. His gaze never leaves mine, his lids half-mast with want as he lazily pops the buttons hiding his cut chest.

Watching him strip for me is a powerful visual, all-consuming in its teasing intensity. On the bed I squirm, wantonly rubbing my thighs together, my teeth raking my lip in an unsatisfying effort to emulate Christian's drugging kisses. Near mindless with the absence of his hands on me my own start to roam, hungry to drag him along the same erotic path he's chosen for me. I brush my hand across my chest, slipping the remaining strap off my shoulder to show him the twin tight peak of my other breast. I get a delicious reward when his graceful strip speeds up a notch, starting with his belt. Emboldened by his approving purr, I glide my hand over the curve of my breast, ducking it below the edge of my slip, down my belly where a rhythmic clench has already started. The silk moulds nicely to my hand, daringly revealing my bare body as I go. Like I've been struck by a jolt I arc off the bed in a perfect bow when my touch connects with the wet folds poking from between the puckered lips of my sex.

Christian is on me in a flash, his naked form hard and beautiful in the soft light as one hand secures my wrists above my head while the other wrenches the slip down my legs with an irritated tug. "Mine," he growls gruffly before sealing his starved mouth over mine, kissing me with violent licks.

"So fucking beautiful," he groans into my mouth while his free hand roughly paws at my breasts.

My breaths are almost shuddering, anticipation making it impossible to draw a proper one. I mewl at Christian when he ends our kiss, my body jonesing for more. His length, thick and hard like granite, burns into my hip, and is well out of my desperate reach.

"Please Christian," I beg, my voice a throaty rasp, hardly recognisable.

I barely register his expression, pinched with lust like my own before he looks down my body, "Are you wet for me baby?"

"Yes, yes. So very wet," I confirm, lifting my head to see the moisture copious enough to coat my thighs.

A primal sound escapes from his chest when he sinks a finger two-knuckles deep onto my tight sheath. I hear him hiss, plunging into my channel with a luscious rhythm before extracting the digit. Breathless I scowl at him, watching as repeats the strange thing he did the other night. He rubs his glistening finger against another then gently pulls them apart as if to test the texture of my cream.

_What the…_ I wonder when his head swings back to meet my lust filled gaze, "You're fertile," he declares, his voice so rough with desire he grits out the words. A change overcomes him, hard and brutal, something almost akin to possession. His nostrils flare, his eyes flash, sparking with the overpowering instinct to mate as he flips me over like I'm a rag doll. Dragging up my hips he fills me with a swift and sharp pierce, the force tearing a guttural sound from us both. Grabbing a fistful of hair at my nape, he pulls me up to meet his demanding mouth, my head turning, my body arching into an S to accommodate his needs. He pounds himself into me, the restraint he usually shows diminished by an urge as primal as it's desperate. His free hand finds the sodden petals of my sex, halting my breath as I rush to the edge of release in a scant second.

"Not yet baby," he orders, slowing his touch to help me recover but I hover, mere inches away from a detonation of nuclear proportions.

Even the slap on his heavy sack against my swollen lips propel me closer, a tremble starting to ripple out form my core just as Christian comes with a mighty growl, his muscle roped body shuddering against mine. I can't wait for the words that always send me into the ether of blinding pleasure, his jaw is still locked in an ecstatic grimace but his fingers take me there, thrumming me into an almighty explosion.

He collapses onto me, his sweat slicked body covering my limp from like a blanket as we fight to regain control of our ragged breaths. The current tune helps to bring us down from our erotic high as James Blunt croons gently about being beautiful.

x

Having regained a bit of composure Christian rains fluttering kisses all over the side of my face, "I'm sorry baby," he apologises, his voice thick, caught with remorse, "I was rough with you. I got carried away, the thought of knowingly planting the life of our child in you…"I feel rather than see him shake his head, overwhelmed.

I swallow; my throat dry and my thoughts still thoroughly scattered, "Please don't apologise," I say past the cotton in my mouth. "That was scorching hot…"

He chuckles, relieved, "I'm glad you think so, I could feel how hard you came and now you look beautiful, thoroughly fucked Mrs Grey."

"I feel it Mr Grey but I don't think you did too badly yourself," I tease, remembering his feral heat, his lusty expression.

He sobers, rubbing his cheek against mine, "That was the single most intense experience of my life. Thank you Anastasia." His gruff tone is loaded with the weight of his sentiment, infinitely touching.

"You're welcome." I understand only too well the profound nature of what we just shared – maybe making another human life that's indelibly bound to you, genetically and otherwise.

We lie like this for a couple more minutes before he rolls off me, and I roll onto my back. I can sense that Christian is still reeling, his behaviour even more possessive than usual as he scoots me closer to him, fitting my jellied body into his arm. When I feel strong enough to stand my parched mouth moves me to get a glass of water.

Instantly he tightens his hold around my shoulders, "Hey, where are you going?"

Lifting my head I find his gaze troubled, "I'm okay, I'm just thirsty. I need some water."

Extracting his arm from under my head he gets up, "I'll get it. Don't go anywhere," he gives me a pointed look, waiting for me to reply.

_Where would I go?_ I wonder before I answer him, "Okay," I agree easily enough but I can't help being curious about his mood.

When he returns with the water he doesn't even let me sit up. Instead he holds the glass for me while he supports my neck with a firm grip. _Oh boy,_ I worry' hopefully he's not going to treat me like a fragile, glass doll when I get pregnant.

He hops back into bed, turning on his side to face me. He pulls me onto his outstretched arm so I lay on my back, his bicep my pillow. Drawing his legs up into the foetal position he forces me to bend my knees so my legs go over his before he pulls the covers up.

"Sweet dreams," his quiet whisper tickles the shell of my ear. Turning away briefly he flicks the light switch, plunging us into the peaceful darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On Friday morning, for a change, I wake up still wrapped in Christian's arm but he's awake, staring at me with a dopey smile on his stunning face.

Pushing my arms up I stretch, my achy muscles protesting slightly, "Morning Mr Grey."

"I missed you," he whispers, his gaze soft with love.

Turning towards him I stroke his cheek, "I'm right here," I reassure him with a copy of his happy smile.

Just then Chris burst through the door, "Daddy, Why are you still sleeping? Where is my morning story?"

We laugh, content in our morning routine with our son. "Hey champ, go get your book then we'll read it to mommy in bed."

Chris' eyes brighten, his smile wide before he scampers from the room at his usual hundred-miles-a-minute, active toddler pace while we take a minute to pull on some pj's.

We have a story, we have breakfast then Chris shows Christian what he's learnt on the piano so far. Feeling utterly lazy I decide to work from home, have a pyjama day before the excitement of the weekend and catching up with Kate and Elliot.

Christian seems pleased with my decision when he leaves a short while later for a meeting at his office. For a while I wander around the apartment, doing this and that but not really getting focussed enough to work. My mind keeps drifting, returning to Julie's article in Elle Magazine. On a whim I head to Christian's office, intent on sending the link to myself so I can remind myself of my surprise _ah-ha_ moment. Idly I scroll through my husband's internet search history, looking for the site. I frown to myself when the word _baby_ pops up on site after site on the list. Randomly I pick one, clicking on the _Fifteen Top Tips To Make A Baby_ link to see what he's been researching so fervently.

Suddenly all sorts of phrases jump out at me as I slowly begin to puzzle together my husband's unusual behaviour of late…

_Lifting your behind to aid gravity after sex when you're trying to conceive_ – Christian using his folded legs to get my knees up.

_Missionary and doggie style, best positions for conception_ – Last night's position certainly fell in this category.

_Not getting up after intercourse for at least twenty minutes_ – This is why Christian was so anxious for me to stay in bed, flat on my back.

_Having an orgasm after the male to help the uterus bring the sperm closer_ – Christian coming slightly ahead of me.

_Men wearing boxer shorts, or even going commando to keep their sperm cool_ – I giggle, wondering if that's why he didn't take his vomit splattered pants off in front of Gail.

_Having sex only every other day, and then only once_ – Here I was worried my husband had lost interest in me, but he used his cunning sexpertise I realise thinking about the night where he all but attacked me with his mouth, wringing two successive orgasms out of me so I would be too exhausted to question why we weren't having actual sex. And then last night, staying in his office, working instead of slipping into bed with me.

_Healthy eating tips for optimal conception, the importance of pre-natal vitamins and exercise during conception and pregnancy._

_Cervical mucus, how to determine your fertile days_ – This is positively cringe worthy, Christian checking the consistency of my mucus. I didn't even know I had mucus down there!

I should have known Christian would prepare for conception like he does everything else: totally, wholly and completely!

**Thank you for reading and reviewing**

**Chapter 46 to follow**


	46. Chapter 46

**Thank you for following my story as well as for your encouraging reviews.**

**Chapter 46**

Sitting back in Christian's office chair I contemplate the implications of his baby making obsession. With a giggle I think back to his overly confident jibe about _nailing it,_ but I can't help worrying about what would happen if we didn't fall pregnant right off the bat. How disappointed would he be and how responsible would I feel? Despite the strong, sturdy fabric logic weaves through reason - the knowledge that Mother Nature will take her course regardless of our interference - I can sense that I would somehow feel like I failed him. Heading off that thought at the pass, I file it in my _discuss-with-Flynn_ box, pleased with myself for taking action before letting things unravel.

With a knock on the door pane Collins' presence snaps me away from my mental back slapping, "Mrs Grey, Cindy Mitchell is here for a brief induction, and to finalise her contract. Seeing that she'll be glued to your side, I thought you might like to meet her."

Smiling at Collins and his thoughtfulness I rise to follow him, curious to meet the woman who'll be taking me and my son's personal safety into her hands.

Mrs Mitchell is so stereotypical I have to stifle a giggle. Her hair is scraped into a bun so tight I wonder if she feels the pinpricks of pain throughout the day. Her shoulders are broad, rounded with the typical bulges of someone who trains to get big. Her dark skin is clear, completely unadorned with make-up bar the mascaraed swipe of her long lashes. The tiny gold hoops that glint in her ears hint at femininity, but her watch belies it with a chunkiness that's usually reserved for men's time pieces. She's wearing a stark, black pants suit, utilitarian but well cut, the jacket nipped in at the waist, flaring over man-straight hips. The hand she holds out for me to shake is patterned with veins in relief, another hint that she's no stranger to the inside of a gym. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if she easily held her own against any Neanderthal stupid enough to agitate her - in short - a true Amazon.

With Collins' introduction her mouth curves with a grin, her whisky-brown eyes good natured, "Mrs Grey, it's a pleasure to meet you."

I can't help returning her smile, taken aback by her friendliness, something I don't often see her burly colleagues emulate, "It's nice to meet you too Cindy and call me Ana please." Her handshake is firm, dry and instils in me a calm confidence.

I feel the gold band indenting her ring finger, the metal slightly warmer than the flesh of her hand. _Married_ I realise, marvelling at how Christian always covers even the smallest of bases. If I am to have a female protector at least he evens it out by making it a married one. It's endearing, one of the many ways in which he treats me as an equal - that is until he doesn't – then bulldozing me into submission when I cross some safety related line, though, even I must concede that his motivation is always from a place of love and concern rather than from the pure, brute need for control. When a small sigh whispers past my lips I find it doesn't bother me the way it used to, that when I said I wouldn't change a thing about him it included his overbearingness. It's part of who he is, just as much as the breathtaking planes of his body, the sharp lines of his face, or his heart that was so black from abuse it bloomed with love.

Her keen eyes dart to Collins, clocking his minute shake, "Better not ma'am," she winks, "wouldn't want to get myself into trouble, and from what I hear I have my work cut out with you."

_What?!_ I shouldn't be surprised that she's been thoroughly briefed but it doesn't stop the mortification from stinging my cheeks. I splutter, my bug eyes popping with shock as I find anywhere to look at but her.

"Uhm… I don't…" floundering I grapple uselessly for words that will put an end to the embarrassment that's multiplied by the fact that I really like her.

"S'all good ma'am," she says, still calm, still smiling. "You'll just have to learn to trust me enough not to bail." With a nonchalant shrug she eyes me in a way that makes me feel measured.

Expelling a breath through the _O_ of my mouth I find the steel that sometimes lines my backbone, my desire to be what Christian needs overriding my chagrin. I fuse my gaze with hers, interjecting my voice with a bravado that's hard to achieve when you're glowing beet red with shame, "I think I can manage that."

Her smile broadens, her eyes lighting with flecks of amber, "Excellent. In that case, I'm looking forward to working with you."

We both turn to the sound of Collins releasing what must have been a nervously held breath, my blush passing to the tips of his ears along with our amused female stares.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the early afternoon an e-mail from my husband trips my beating heart into a flittering pace.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Dinner with my hot wife_

_Date: 11 November 2016 12:11_

_To: Anastasia Grey ===== hot wife_

_My dearest Mrs Grey,_

_I have an unexpected meeting with the manager of my Mile High Club later this afternoon, why don't you join me there for dinner afterwards? My mother will be meeting me at Grey House just before then to remove my dressing and she's kindly offered to babysit Chris at Escala tonight. _

_Laters baby_

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

_Oh, date night with Christian_ I think excitedly. The last time we were at his Columbia Tower property he made me take off my panties, and teased me with the merciless intent of a soldier without so much as touching me. I blush remembering the torturous, seventy six floor ride in the elevator, his questing fingers dipping leisurely in and out of me as we stood coolly - at least to the casual observer - in the corner of the crowded car.

x

Taking my thoughts on a naughty meander a plan soon pops into my head. In the light of my husband's covert baby making mission, and in the spirit of his erotic, tormenting ways, Mr Baby-Maker Fifty is in for some payback. I have a sneaking suspicion that this sex-on-every-other-day thing is even harder on him than it is on me; hopefully his residual desire will play right into my hands. And considering that it's day fourteen tomorrow, my actual ovulation day, I bet anything that he's keen to save his sperm till then.

_From: Anastasia Grey_

_Subject: Dinner with hotter husband – that's you!_

_Date: 11 November 2016 12:29_

_To: Christian Grey_

_My dear Mr Grey,_

_I am writing to inform you that your hot wife will be delighted to accept your mother's gracious offer of child minding and escort you to dinner. _

_That is all._

_Anastasia Grey_

_Wife, Mother, Cook, Sex Kitten and delighted, Soon-To-Be-Published Author for Grey Publishing – My title is longer than yours….. ;) _

Hitting send I feel excitement tickling my belly. I'm relieved that our lives aren't entirely on hold with the madness of another threat in the background and the crazy paparazzi crowd jostling our every entrance and exit. Again we've jumped into this marriage head first. With Chris adding a whole other dynamic to it, I would hate for our haste to diminish the bond that will always require a lot of maintenance.

_From: Christian Grey_

_Subject: Titles_

_Date: 11 November 2016 12:34_

_To: Long titled wife_

_My dearest Mrs Grey,_

_Length isn't everything - I win._

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.__ Happy Man_

As always Christian has a way of exceeding my expectations. Here I was expecting some fun e-mail banter but instead he picks out a seemingly insignificant thing, turning our potential word sparring into a romantic gesture that readily rivals his best efforts. Warmth, admiration, desire – all spread through me on the sinuous fluidity of our love, built into me now just as indelible as my own genetic code. I am a lucky, lucky girl.

_From: Anastasia Grey_

_Subject: Title adjustments _

_Date: 11 November 2016 12:48_

_To: Christian Grey_

_My dearest Mr Grey,_

_Your beauty is only exceeded by your wit. Fair point, well made._

_I love you_

_Anastasia Grey_

_Happy Wife ====== Aptly adjusted title_

The ring of my cell startles me out of my happy place daydream, Christian's voice as I answer low and thick as honey, "I love you too."

Like a fool I smile, my face practically split with the broadness of my grin, "I love you more." I hear his groan through his smile. I picture him with his head back, his eyes closed as he soaks in the words that always seem to feed his soul.

"Anastasia," my name on his lips is a whisper, a plea, a prayer – like a sigh of relief.

For a beat my senses transport me back to Christian and my breakfast meeting at the Conrad in Miami, the day after I ran into him at the zoo. He told me then, for the first time, and in no uncertain terms, how my presence in his life changed him, affected him in the short course of our relationship before I screwed it up again. Like then, I again hear his need in the thread of his tone. Not just his body's powerful physical draw but also the depth of his emotional craving for me. Holding on to the precious eye-opener, I let the weight of it tip the scales I measure my worth with.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

If I am to even make a crack in my husband's concrete resolve to stick to his baby making schedule I'll need all the help I can get for my saucy plan of seduction, starting with a wax. Much as Christian is keen to provide for my every whim I don't think leaving Escala for a beauty treatment will meet with his approval, especially if said salon isn't preapproved by him. When I inform Gail of our evening plans she's quick to help me organise a home visit from an esthetician.

Throughout the afternoon the conversation Christian and I shared plays on my mind, his words plugging the many holes my insecurity has punched through the years. I relish the way it bolsters my self-confidence, making me feel new. And Gail is an angel, helping me entertain Chris through my primping.

With my freshly exfoliated skin, hairless and glowing I venture into my closet in search of something jaw dropping. I find just the thing in a tiny flirty dress, so short I'll have a have a hard time convincing Christian that it's not a top. Giddy with feminine power I finger the nude chiffon pleats. I love the translucent, cloudy quality of the fabric, diffusing the view of the skin-coloured sheath underneath enough to make you wonder if it's there at all. The pleats start at the scooping neckline, first tight before falling into a floaty A-line that will move flatteringly whenever I do. Reed thin straps over my shoulders ensure that the barely-there look of the dress isn't spoilt.

x

I giggle when I realise the dress comes with its own set of underwear, cut from the same cloth as the sheath. The bra is strapless with a decent amount of support, holding the spill of my breasts in tantalising rounds, the valley between them darkening with depth as they peek from the neckline. The panty is a teeny, seamless thong made to be virtually invisible.

In the bathroom I keep with the low-key theme, finishing my face with bronzer, lashings of coal-black mascara and a sheer lip-gloss shimmering with hints of gold. My hair is pin-straight, flush against my back like the fall of water. My jewellery box raid yields chandelier earrings of antique gold, matched perfectly with creamy, fresh water pearls. An exotic scent, rich with the fragrance of spice and lilies is the last thing I apply before slipping into a pair of nude stacked heels, killer of course.

X

In the mirror I see a stunning creature, not me. Apparently there's nothing like the glow of self-worth to make a girl look good. The smile playing on my lips is for my thoughts, eager and excited to see how the night will pan out. I pick a long coat to ward of the chill until we get to the club, then fill a small clutch with the bare essentials only because that's all it can hold.

After an air kiss to save my make-up Grace pushes me back by the shoulders to take in my outfit. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, her mouth sliding into a crooked grin as she nods her head in approval.

"I suspect you'll have my son's full attention tonight," she teases, her grin widening into a beam when she spots my coy blush.

"I hope so mom," I breathe, a little flustered by the all-too-knowing glint in her eyes. "Thanks for taking care of Chris tonight. He's excited to see you."

"You're welcome Ana," she rubs the top of my arm, her expression warm. "I'm looking forward to seeing him too," she banters, dropping her gaze to my belly, "him and my new grandbaby." She gives me an exaggerated wink, one that says _your secret is safe with me,_ though I don't have a secret yet – I think.

I try to hide my shock, but her remark is so left field I'm betrayed by my gasp.

She giggles girlishly, obviously delighting in her inside info, "He told me; wanted to know if there was anything he could do to aid the process." She makes air quotes around the word _process_, wriggling her brows suggestively.

I can only laugh, half embarrassed, half amused thinking about adult Christian having a birds and bees conversation with his mom. If I had any doubts left that Christian deserves a little seductive torture they leave in a flurry along with any inhibitions I may have been harbouring. _Game on Mr Grey!_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Collins escorts me to the seventy sixth floor before joining Taylor somewhere nearby. The Mile High Club is every bit as opulent as I remember. Muted lights twinkle like tiny stars, giving the large space a romantic ambience that's complemented by the gentle tinkling of a Concert Grand, and excellent, unobtrusive service. The decor is understated, elegant, making full use of the spectacular Seattle skyline that's visible through the surrounding glass walls.

x

My coat checked; I don't walk so much as strut through the intimate groupings of tables, zeroing in on my spousal prey that is, as yet, oblivious to my arrival. I gather the admiring glances I garner like flowers, fuelling my confidence as I go. As if sensing the turning heads Christian looks up from his Blackberry, his bland expression falling away just like his jaw. Pushing up from his chair he makes to stand, bumping the table in the first ungraceful move I've ever seen him make. My inner goddess is sky high on the drug of our apparent appeal, and I revel with her in his reaction.

Careful not to make a scene he rounds the table, greeting me with a kiss on my cheek to give his hissed whisper access to my ear, "Jeez Ana, where the fuck is the pants? Are you trying to give me a damn heart attack?"

Unperturbed I smile, looking at him through my heavy lashes, fluttering them slowly, "This is a dress silly," playfully I smack his arm, playing oblivious, "one of the ones you had your stylist pick out for me." I walk my fingers up his chest, using his shirt buttons as stepping stones.

His fingers curl around my upper arm, his darkening eyes betraying his arousal despite his scowl, "Where's your coat?" he growls, looking around, counting the pairs of eyes on the miles of leg I have on display.

I cock my hip, fisting my hands in my waist, "Mr Grey, I'm not ruining this gorgeous outfit you bought me with a coat, besides, you're being awfully rude." I breathe through the bubble of giggles fighting to escape, his face a picture of horror at my accusation. Counting down with my fingers I list his mock offences, "I've come all the way across town to join you for dinner, yet I don't get a proper kiss, you don't offer me a seat or a drink, not even a _you look lovely_," I pout, waiting for his good manners to win out.

I get more than I bargain for when Christian calls my bluff, giving the entire restaurant a show. A possessive arm bands around my waist, roughly pulling me closer, his anchoring strength the only thing keeping me from toppling over on my dangerously high heels.

Hovering his cross mouth mere inches away from mine he speaks in a low rasp, "Trust me baby, you look hot enough for me to bend over the table and fuck into next year."

A second later his mouth is on mine, kissing me with a ravenous intensity that leaves me dizzy.

When he's done with me he sets me right, giving the dress a disgusted look, "Dress my ass. That thing is going straight into the trash when we get home," he mutters darkly. "I think Miss Action owes me a fucking refund."

Still grumbling he moves in behind me, shielding me with his body as he shepherds me into the half-moon booth. Thoroughly pleased I hide my smile, not only was that exactly the result I was hoping for, but the privacy of this booth suits my plan perfectly, the table in front of us strategically placed to veil my provocation.

Angling my body towards him I cross my legs as Christian moves in beside me, letting the dress ride up my thighs.

"Jeez!" he spits, freshly irked when he clocks the nude panties peeking through the triangle between my folded legs and the indecently high dress. "You can't even sit in that thing!" Narrowing his eyes at me he snares my amused gaze, "You are trying to kill me, aren't you?"

My laugh is gentle, tinkling, almost coy, "Don't be so dramatic." I lean forward, giving him a prime view of the milky perk of my breasts while I run his tie through my scissored fingers. I shrug, not looking into the gaze I sense is heating for me, "I just wanted to look good for you."

I hear him suck in a breath. He captures my wrist before I can smooth his tie once more, bringing my hand to his mouth. He bites then kisses a pair of my fingers before shoving my hand under the table, brushing it against his erection, "That's how fucking good you look," he grits.

If the tent of his pants is anything to go by Mr Grey is still going commando, and just like that it's my turn to gasp, a flash of desire streaking into my panties. I squirm under his assessing stare, the colour of his eyes taking on that liquid light of raw need.

"And it doesn't help my situation," he quirks a brow, looking down at himself, "to think about the fact that you might very well be sitting here, pregnant with my child."

_Holy shit!_ I swallow, blinking at the hoarse rumble of his voice, his words igniting my blood.

He sits back, happier now that he's shocked me right back. "You know I don't share well, especially not this fucking much of you." Slipping a digit under the strap of my dress, just below my collarbone he strokes my skin with the back of his finger. Though he's mad, he's equally aroused, his stare lazily sweeping over the curves he's itching to touch.

I pinch my lower lip between my teeth, "You don't have to share. I'm all yours Mr Grey." This time I grab his tie, pulling him closer for a firm kiss. His hand slaps onto the long stretch of exposed thigh I have on show for him, his fingers digging into my flesh with a deliciously hard grip.

We jump apart, me giggling, him blinking when the waiter clears his throat beside our table, evidently ready to take our order.

Christian rakes a hand through his hair, quickly regaining control of himself before he gruffly rumbles off an order of poached Salmon, vegetables and a house salad. If the waiter is fazed by Christian's tone he doesn't show it, efficiently filling our wine glasses with sparkling grape juice before heading off to place the order.

"What, no oysters today Mr Grey?" I tease, thinking that he's going to crack a joke about our libidos not needing any help.

"Uhm, no," he says, unwavering. "No uncooked seafood when you're pregnant."

_Jeez! Is there anything about the subject he doesn't know?_

"You know I might not be. It may take a while; we don't know how long it will take for the hormones from the IUD to work out of my system." Even though I know he won't hear of it I still feel the need to manage his expectations.

He smirks, his arrogant expression infuriating as it is attractive, and I return it with my own because I know his little secret.

Over Christian's shoulder I catch the eye of a man at another table, not for the first time noticing that he looks our way a little too much. He doesn't smile or look away, simply stares with open interest.

When Christian sees my frown he turns to follow my line of sight, "What is it baby?"

Instantly the man looks away, re-joining the conversation around his table. There's something off about him, not quite dressed for an establishment like this, without the quiet poise of the other diners that can afford the outrageous price tag of the yearly membership the club charges. The last thing I want to do is raise Christian's suspicions on some vague feeling I have. That, coupled with my scanty outfit, puts me in no position to complain about the blatant appraisal of strangers.

I turn my full attention back to him, smiling warmly, "Nothing. Tell me about your day? How is your arm feeling?"

Christian gives me the highlights of his day, which flatteringly includes my e-mail and our phone call, and I do the same telling him about my meeting with Cindy. We discuss our plans with Elliot and Kate, and I rejoice seeing Christian's excitement about seeing his brother and taking Chris out on the Grace.

My stomach knots nervously when he informs me that the process of Chris' name change is virtually complete, and that a notification will be sent to Jose who apparently is still on location in the Bahamas. I've no idea how Jose will take the news. I toy with the idea of sending him a pre-emptive e-mail but shelve the unavoidable discussion with Christian for later. If he turns out to be the bad guy I bear such a big chunk of the responsibility for his actions. There's still a part of me that finds it hard to believe that he would go to such extremes, maybe naively hoping that if I play nice he'll let whatever grudge he does have go.

Both of us turn thoughtful, quiet for a minute before Christian reaches for my hand, "Do you remember what you said the other day, wanting me to come clean about certain aspects of my past?"

His cautious tone makes me look up; he's focussed intently on me, "Yes," I drawl slowly, not sure where the conversation is going.

Nodding he locks our stares, "I've been giving it some thought. Taylor and I had a meeting with a respected publicist, just to get his take. There's still a lot to discuss but I wanted to know if you were still on board with the idea?"

I am and I'm not. There's no way I can fool myself into thinking that it would be a breeze. Not the actual exposure part, but the fact that it would place Christian in a sexually intriguing light that would call women to him like a siren. You see it with celebrities all the time, the public thinks they own you, that you're fair game for whatever twisted fantasies they entertain about you. I'm also not oblivious to how ruthless women can be to get what they want. On the other hand, is there any greater gift I can give him, freedom from a lifetime of fear of exposure?

I muster every ounce of my courage, giving my husband a beatific smile, "Absolutely," I confirm, my voice clear, convincing, pushing the anxiety to the back of my mind.

When our food arrives I catch the curious man's gaze on us again, the unease I feel only intensifying when he leers at me. Shuddering I turn to my food, hoping that I'm imagining things.

Of course the food is delicious, drawing a soft moan from me that makes Christian chuckle, "I love to see you eating baby," he purrs in a way that makes it sound like sin.

I can't help glowing. His words, his tone, even his gaze fall on me like the caresses of a gentle lover. Flattering and distracting, it all makes me fall so much deeper in love with him.

I guess he sees his adoration reflected in my expression for he groans, "Don't look at me like that and expect me to behave. We're in public Mrs Grey." His voice is thick with desire, completely negating his warning.

I grin, coquettish and confident, "Like what Mr Grey? Like I love you? I can't help it, it's the truth." I shrug a single shoulder, hopelessly unable to hide my feelings from him, even if I wanted to.

I hear the hiss of his inhale, his lips parting to accommodate it, "Let's get you home so you can get fucked Mrs Grey, before I take you right here and give the damn tabloids something to write about."

My heart stops, then starts at the streaky heat pulsing between us, "Good plan Mr Grey," I manage to rasp past my dry mouth. "I just need to go the restroom."

He nods curtly, muttering about the indecent dress as I slide out of the booth.

I'm relieved to see that the creepy guy from the other table is gone when I pass it on my way to the restrooms. Inside I freshen up, fixing my make-up quickly; eager to join my amorous husband. On my exit I gasp when I find the gawking stranger from the restaurant leaning against the wall in the relative privacy of the dead end passageway.

x

He captures my startled face in the doorway of the powder room, the flashes popping like manic winks from where he holds the camera low, the angle deliberately unflattering, which was, at least initially, out of my immediate line of sight. I notice he works the offensive thing with a practised ease, like it's an extension of his own arm, all the while sneering his snide smile like he knows something I don't.

Protectively I raise my arm, turning my head away from the blinding pops of light. I quash the burst of panic in my belly when I realise he's a pap, his keen interest in us explained by his unsavoury job. He may be a leering bastard, intent on getting a money shot, but with Christian, Taylor and Collins nearby, all I have to do is get away from him. I skirt around him, a little disorientated by the insistent flashes but he sidesteps, cutting me off.

"Aw, come on Mrs Grey, give a guy a break, just answer a couple of friendly questions," he cajoles, sounding anything but sincere. When I round his other side he blocks me again, dropping his fake friendly act and a bomb, "Why did you lie about your son's biological father? Did you try to trick Christian Grey into marrying you? Were you and Mr Rodriguez in cahoots with a scheme to blackmail him with the child?"

Anger, no fury streaks through me with the force of a 1000V jolt. I stop, dropping my arm to glare daggers at him, "Get out of my way!" I yell, tears of frustration burning in the back of my throat. I clench my teeth, willing myself not to make matters worse by saying something that will be twisted in the tabloids tomorrow.

In true paparazzi form he lifts the camera, holding it close to my face, blinding me as he searches for something antagonizing enough to make me break, "So you're not denying it? That's pretty fucked-up! What about your son? Did you thi…Oooffffff!"

For a second I'm confused, I can't make out what's happening in the low light of the passage, my vision still affected by the sharp bursts of light from the flash. I feel an arm band around my waist, yanking me away as something speeds past me. Instinctively I know I'm in Christian's arms, his body shielding me from whatever is happening.

His urgent words finally filter through my befuddled brain as his face comes into focus, "Are you hurt baby? Did that fucker touch you? Baby! Talk to me!" He gives me a small shake, his expression apprehensive.

Snapping too I shake my head, bewildered as I watch Taylor drag the cuffed and bloody nosed pap away, fighting his bonds, and spewing ugly threats of litigation. By the looks of it Taylor must've tackled him while Christian got me out of the way.

"Thank fuck," he breathes before crushing me to his chest.

The threatening tears of frustration from earlier is gone, the shock keeping my mind pleasantly numb while Christian escorts me, tucked tightly under his arm, to collect my coat. He collects it then helps me into it, doing up the buttons and freeing my hair from beneath it, taking care of me like only he can.

We leave with Collins, his shoulders tense and his gaze sweeping, the pap's audacious approach making him extra vigilant. Taylor's with the cops, giving his statement and we're heading there to offer ours.

Christian takes my hands, cupping them inside his own, "Baby, do you want to lay charges?"

"I don't know," I say hesitantly. "The last thing I want to do is antagonize them, and I don't want to give them any reason to intensify their scrutiny of us, but I'm outraged with how he went about it." _And the photos,_ I think as an afterthought, cringing. I can only imagine the captions on the front page of some sleazy rag tomorrow.

Nodding, he tenderly brushes a stray stand of hair behind my ear. As if reading my mind he puts it at ease, "There'll be no photos baby, Taylor made sure of that. And don't worry about any of this coming out, if he ever wants to make a dime on his job he'll drop it. I'll cash in every marker I have to make sure he'll never be published again if he so much as alludes to even laying eyes on you."

_Serves him right!_ I think nastily. The mighty force of Grey Publishing bearing down on a member of the paparazzi must be nothing short of intimidating. I lean in, cupping his cheek, "Thank you." Pressing a grateful kiss onto his lips I make up my mind about pressing charges, "I'm fine to make a statement but I don't think I want to lay charges if that's okay with you."

Christian hugs me to him, kissing the top of my head, "Much as I despise what they do I think that's the better of two evils. If you sue one of their own they just gang up and make your life hell."

"How did he know though? About Chris' name change?" I ask, suddenly perplexed as it hasn't yet been finalised.

"We had to file the documents with the Office of Vital Statistics, once there it's a public record, and with the attention we've been getting from the press I'm not at all surprised that they dug hard enough to find out. This is why I hate them snooping around, they find shit and twist it…" his words fade out, his jaw clenching with annoyance as he looks through the window, losing himself in the passing world.

**Thank you for reading! Please don't forget to review! Chapter 47 to follow.**

_Thank you Skinsavant for the beauty technician info, and Karen and Susan for the quick, grammar/word confirming e-mails._


	47. Chapter 47

**Thank you to all my loyal reviewers - love it, as always, and thank you also to the new readers for their feedback.**

**Chapter 47**

We arrive home much later than we would have; the endless questions by bored, nightshift officers devouring a huge chunk of our time. At least we found out that the journo's presence at the club was a coincidence, not a premeditated ambush - but still - he was way too informed about our private affairs to make me complacent. Plus, I'm exhausted, feeling grubby from the grime of the cop shop, and the balls of my feet feel like they just might burst if I take one more step.

Christian sees me wincing as I step out of the SUV to make the short walk to the elevator, "Shoes?" he asks, grinning sardonically before scooping me up into his arms.

I squeal at the sudden movement, giggling as I wrap my grateful arms around his neck, "Thank you." I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, relishing his unique smell and his warm closeness.

When Collins and Taylor join us in the elevator Christian carefully adjusts my coat, chivalrously protecting my modesty. I hide my smile, snuggling into his strong chest, flexing as he carried my weight. In the apartment the guys bid us goodnight before Christian plops me onto the marble of the kitchen counter. We are finally alone, with Grace and Chris long ago relegated to dreamland.

"How are you feeling baby?" He's playing it cool, the question casual while he turns to the fridge to pour us some juice, but I hear his carefully veiled tone of concern. It only takes a second for me to realize it's another of those things that's distressing to him only because of my past choices.

The ambient temperature in the apartment is pleasant, making my coat stifling. Unbuttoning it, I push it off my shoulders, letting it pool around me, and not caring for the fact that the dress rides too far up my thighs. It also buys me some time to think about what I can say to reassure him.

In the end I go with the truth, hoping that he can see I trust him enough to give it to him, "I'm fine, still annoyed that it screwed up our evening, but mostly, I'm just glad that it's over." Scrunching up my nose I wait for him to respond.

When he turns his eyes flash, raking over my body, first with annoyance then with heat as if a switch has been flipped, but he banks it, too weary of our run-in with the pap to unleash it on me. He hands me the glass and takes a long pull of his own before setting it down on the counter. I do the same, the tiny cells of orange pulp bursting on my tongue, reviving my mouth.

"Me too," he says simply before skating the flat of his hands down the sides of my calves.

He wriggles his fingers into my shoes, pushing them off so they clang on the floor, "Silly, silly shoes," he murmurs, scowling at them for hurting me.

Tenderly he positions my foot to rest against the defined mounds of his abdomen. It forces me to lean back, to support myself with my arms behind my back. With his thumbs he applies a gentle pressure to the swollen pad, massaging the bruised flesh back to life. I moan, loud and grateful, the sensation relaxing enough for me to forget about the pap and his intrusive questions.

"Do you like that Mrs Grey?" the grin on his wicked mouth says he knows that I do.

"Mmmhhhh," I give him a throaty groan, tipping my head back in bliss.

He chuckles, evidently enjoying my reaction as he rolls every single one of my toes between his dextrous fingers. Like a woman starved for touch I shudder and gasp, taking a ridiculous amount of pleasure from his skilled ministrations. His hand moves to my instep, pushing into it with deep, long strokes before he moves to work on my heel. I don't bother opening my eyes when he switches to the other foot, too caught up in the dreamy state of anticipation I feel for his magical caress.

"Maybe this dress isn't so bad," he rumbles in a low voice, making my eyes fly open.

The liquid heat in his gaze is fixed to the apex of my thighs; the nude scrap of fabric between my legs dampening at the sight, and open for him like an invite. He continues to knead the tired muscles in my foot, his firm pressure echoing in my core.

"So I can keep it?" I tease, my husky whisper punctuated only by my choppy breaths.

"No," he replies darkly, concise, discarding the subject only to change it, "I want to see you. Show me." Jutting his chin in the direction of my groin I flame, grasping his command.

Shifting my weight onto a single arm I hook my finger into the triangle of my panties, pulling it away to reveal the wet pink folds of my sex.

"Fuck," he grits before swallowing, eyeing my freshly waxed lips. Slowly he leans forward, letting my ankle go so my legs dangle off the side of the counter. His hands smooth up my calves, curving in to settle half way up my inner thighs.

For a beat his eyes flutter closed. I watch his chest fill, expanding with a deep inhalation. I can hear the hiss of air flowing up his nose, "I can smell you baby."

When he opens his eyes, the half-mast lids are weighted; drugged with need. The gritty need straining his voice is as powerful as any aphrodisiac, bursting through me with a searing jolt. I suck in a ragged breath, shuddering with the heady mix of oxygen and the tingles riding on the gruff sound of his baritone. I love nothing more than undoing him, tripping up the hold he has on his steely control.

After the pap encounter I was sure my sly scheme of seduction would have to be shelved, but seeing him now, I thrill in getting my way.

He adjusts the hard ridge stuffing the front of his pants. With a thready growl forced past his lust-tight throat, he uses the last vestiges of his slipping restraint to care for me, "Are you sure you want this Mrs Grey?"

Another wave of desire slams into me. That his primal urge is only overridden by his concern for me is an incredible turn-on, along with his gaze – unblinking, as his stare strokes my sodden opening.

"Yes," I confirm on a breathy whisper, needy for the connection between us as much as I crave his reaction to me.

I barely catch his nod before he shoves my legs apart - roughly, then buries his face in my mound. My hips jerk, from the force of his ardent tongue, and from the electrifying sensation that darts right into my toes.

His hand grips my ass, shoving my behind closer to the edge of the counter, the other reaches between us, his thumb and forefinger parting my labia. His groan vibrates against my secret inner creases as he laves the sensitive flesh with hungry laps.

I catch a glimpse of the fine silvery ribbons of saliva and arousal that stretches between our intimate points of contact when he comes away from me, "You taste so fucking good, I just might come in my pants."

With the heel of his hand he rubs himself over the taunt fabric of his suit slacks, like he's trying to lessen an ache there. The storm in his eyes rage on; still fused to the wet cleft between the spread of my legs.

With one arm to support my weight, and the opposite's hand baring myself, I'm trapped in my position on the counter, unwilling to move for fear that he might cease his current carnal appraisal. The slick glisten around his mouth is impossibly erotic; the blatant visual of where his mouth has been makes me feel rabid with want.

"Christian, please," I mewl, unfulfilled my longing only deepens.

"Lean back baby, put your legs over my shoulders," he coaxes in a low timbre that'll have me doing almost anything.

Reluctantly I let my underwear go. I flatten my palms on the surface with both arms behind me, locking them before lifting my legs, placing my claves onto his shoulders. Christian grabs the sides of my panties, dragging them down. I lift my behind to help him ease off the scant barrier. I expect him to slip them off but when they reach his chest he stretches the elasticated scrap, lifting it over his head, effectively locking my ankles around his neck.

x

I watch a sinful grin spread over his face, "Now, where were we…?"

"Aahhh," I grab a sharp, long breath, the feel of his wet tongue firing at my every nerve.

He rewards me with an answering sound, more animal than man, sending me ever closer to the core of the storm brewing at my centre. His left arm snakes over my leg to pin open my drenched lips, and the right comes from below, pushing into my empty hole. His clever finger drags along my tingling channel, igniting the sparks that will set off the fall. His licking grows stronger, faster – in time with my frantic heart I know he must be able to hear.

A series of thready O's spill from my raw throat, louder and louder as the coil tightens. Christian senses my imminent surge, adding another finger he quickens the rip that will tear me free from myself.

"Now baby," he mumbles against me, and on a louder moan I do, rapturing into a full body spasm.

He opens his mouth, sucking in the soft flesh surrounding my clitoris, taking it deep, he tugs, slowly, gently stretching it to hold me in the erupting moment of ecstasy. My head spins, stunned by the time I spend suspended.

"Mommy, what's wong? Are you hurting?" Chris' sleepy voice is like a sluice of ice, the sound innocently jarring.

Abruptly Christian's hot mouth snaps away, leaving me cold and crashing from the ether, shocked at the two discordant moments clashing. I struggle to fight hysterical giggles as Christian tries to untangle himself from my legs' hold, my restraining panties not cooperating with his need to break free. Mercifully our boy is behind me, not privy to the view of his dad's tussle with my reluctant undies.

With as much measured tone I can manage I rasp what I hope is a reply placating enough to halt his progress around the counter, "Uhm, fine baby boy. Hold…, Hold on, mommy is coming." I clamp my hand over my mouth to contain my snort, my word choice setting off another battle with the giggles.

My newly freed husband gives me a smirk. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve he strides away to intercept our son.

"Hey champ, mommy's perfect. Why are you up?" Christian squats in front of him, his expression gentle, concerned.

"I had a bad dweam," he declares, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Aaahhh," we both drawl, our voices thick with sympathy.

I slip off the counter, joining my guys, "Let mommy take you back to bed honey, I'll lie with you for a bit."

Chris nods, walking into my outstretched arms, "Such a brave boy coming to look for mommy and daddy after your bad dream," I praise softly, thinking about the long walk down the corridor he made on his own.

I smooth his hair as he rests his head on my shoulder. He's already so heavy; I doubt I'll be able to pick him up like this for much longer. Catching Christian's eye he makes an _aaah cute_ face, his forehead drawing together with worry lines.

"Give me a minute to wash up. Will it be okay if I come?" His uncertainty reminds me of how little experience he's had with Chris, his desire to do all of those things now- the fun and the hard things – such a potent sign of his willingness to be the best dad he can be.

"Of course," I manage, smiling but barely able to speak past the emotion welling in my chest. "No one can keep bad dreams away as well as daddy can."

Again our stares fuse as I watch an onerous crush of feelings shade over his face - from the hurt of his past he relived in his own dreamy hell to the hope he bears for our future – all on display when the history behind my words become apparent to us both. Together we swallow thickly, not needing any words for what passes between us, fighting to contain the sentiment painted memories that taint and colour our lives.

Chris lifts his head from its resting place to see what the holdup is, breaking into our trice.

Christian offers him a reassuring smile, "Wait up for me okay buddy?" He ruffles his hair before jogging away.

When Christian joins us shortly after, Chris' little lids are already failing, heavy with sleep he lets go, turning into his dad's arm when he slips in beside him. I watch the Hallmark picture of my son trustingly curled into the protective embrace of his father's arm, the rightness of it striking me – the image beautiful.

Not one to let this treasured moment pass uncaptured, I head off to find my camera, blowing my husband a kiss as I go. When I get back, the picture is all the more precious with both my guys fast asleep. As I switch off the light I smile, shaking my head at my foiled attempt at full blown sex on the _other day_ of every other day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Saturday morning I'm yanked from my slumber by my rocking bed, and howl of delighted squeals. Opening my sleepy eyes I find my boy bouncing on the bed, jabbering excitedly about sailing. Behind him my gaze finds my husband looking smug, perceptibly pleased to be the source of his son's joy.

x

"Mrs Grey, if you don't get your delicious hiney out of bed I'll leave my monkey here to torture you," with a smirk he points to Chris who eagerly takes on the role of demented monkey, jumping around on the springy mattress, his monkey noises enthusiastic and way too loud for this time of morning.

I splutter, half laughing, half snorting at his turn of phrase, my mind making an unusual turn into the gutter, "Really Mr Grey? Hiney? And monkey?" I ask, full of mirth.

Wriggling his eyebrows at me, Christian's grin turns dirty.

"What's a hiney?" Chris interjects in between his primate calls.

It's Christian's turn to splutter, "Uhm…" his wide eyes fall on me, all but begging for help.

"Yes daddy," I tease, enjoying his sudden fluster, "what exactly is a hiney?"

His stare grows larger; shocked that I'm messing with him, but mercifully it's fleeting. Recovering quickly his mouth curves, taking it in the good spirit it was intended.

He lifts Chris off the bed, swinging him onto his hip, "I'll tell you when you're sixteen champ. All you have to know is that mommy has a great one." He winks at me, and gives Chris a mock jab on his chin. "Let's go wake-up grandma."

"Hey!" I laugh after them as they turn to leave, "That, Mr Grey, is going to come back to bite you in the hiney!"

Christian's parting chuckle and Chris' whooping ring in my happy ears as I get up to get dressed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the SUV, on our way to collect Kate and Elliot, Grace recounts the previous night's antics with Chris, her gaze glowing softly whenever she looks at him. Christian notices too, gently prodding me in the ribs with a proud beam when next she goes all gooey for her grandson.

Our meet and greet with Kate and Elliot takes much longer than we planned as we linger over coffee and pastries, catching up and generally grinning at each other like the happy fools we are for seeing one another again. Both their welcomes to me are warm, sincere, without a trace of the recrimination I know I deserve. It doesn't surprise me so much with Kate as we've made our peace, but when Elliot hugs me, mumbling about how good it is to see me, I almost break down. Christian is quick to cover my back with his comforting, if not little possessive, presence, holding me to him with an arm across my shoulders.

"If you make my wife cry I'll kick your ass," he warns, for the most part good naturedly.

Elliot takes it in his stride, teasing right back with a cocky grin, "I'd love to see you try little brother."

I watch Kate and Elliot's interaction with Chris carefully whenever Mia is prepared to let him play with anyone other than herself. Now that I know the story of their struggle it's bitter sweet to see. Apart from the obvious love, the longing is just as plain, twisting in my heart like it's my own.

Chris is sitting on Kate's lap, enjoying the attention, and the tiny pieces of pastry she breaks off to feed him. The two of them are adorable, like a mommy bird feeding a baby chick. Chris tilts his head back, waiting for her to put the morsel into his mouth.

"Mmmhh," rubbing his tummy he smacks his lips in approval.

She laughs at his exaggerated appreciation, seeing right through his plan to get more, "Was that delicious?" She squeezes him around his shoulders in a _you're-too-cute-for-your-own-good_ kind of hug.

His face brightens, excited to share whatever suddenly occurred to him.

Sitting straighter he addresses us all, his little-boy voice clear for all to hear, "Daddy says mommy has a delicious hiney!"

The collective adult gasp sucks the air from the room as my saucered gaze swings to my husband's. The blush I get doesn't so much flush as it bursts across my cheeks, the flaming acute and mortifying. Agonising seconds pass in pin-dropping silence before erupting with deep, throaty laughter. Mia, Kate, Elliot, Grace, Carrick, even Christian is howling with it, streaming tears, and slapping thighs.

Christian leans closer, "Damn right," he whispers, quickly nipping my lobe, thoroughly amused and enjoying the joke that was supposed to bite him in the ass.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Grace is still magnificent, easily the biggest boat on the Marina, and fully restored from the vandalism she recently suffered. I push that unpleasant thought out of my mind as we board her.

x

Once Christian is satisfied with the safety checks, and Chris is strapped into his very own tiny life vest, he turns his attention to me. With deft hands he fastens and tightens the clasps on mine, making a low, humming sound when he tugs on the final strap. He presses a chaste kiss onto my lips, pulls back, then thinks better of it, and licks deeply into my mouth. My hands fist into the front of his sweater, his hunger fierce and unexpected.

He ends our kiss, looking at me with those mercury sheened irises that ooze desire, "Tonight Mrs Grey," he purrs seductively, "and you owe me."

I gasp, reminded of both our interrupted night and my impending ovulation. Goose bumps streak across my skin as tingles tease the ending of my nerves with anticipation. I can't even begin to imagine what Fifty has planned for baby-making. _Oh my._

I pin my lip with my teeth to curb the broad spread of my smile, "I do, and it's a date Mr Grey," I agree, knowing that his heat is reflected in my eyes. It's very hard not to get excited for his sake. He wants this so much.

Out on deck the air is chilly as we prepare to get going. Kate and I get cosy in the deep upholstered bucket seats at the back of the boat while Christian and Elliot delight in taking Chris around, pulling ropes and shouting nautical terms over the wind.

With our threat still largely undefined, and the increasing attention from the press Christian is in no mood to take chances with our safety. Collins is accompanying us on the boat while Taylor and Carl follow us in the speedboat.

"I can't believe we're sitting here, talking like this," I shake my head at Kate, giving her a shy smile. There was a time, not too long ago, where I believed that I'd never spend time with her again.

"Oh Ana, I feel the same! I've missed you, and he has too," she looks to Christian, wistful for a moment before turning back to me.

I still find their friendship a novelty. It's one of the few good things that came from my leaving.

"Don't do it again," she admonishes, carefully taking stock of my expression.

I leave my emotions unguarded, unchecked I give them free reign to bleed into my words. "I'll never do it again. I regret nothing more than hurting him and keeping him from Chris."

She narrows her eyes at me, a small V forming between her perfectly arched brows, "I mean it Ana. As your friend and your son's godmother I will do you bodily harm if you so much as consider pulling a stunt like that again."

I take a breath to answer her but quickly shut my mouth. Christian and I have never discussed the possibility of godparents. I blink, giving my head a small shake as I try to figure out what to say.

When the corners of her mouth twitch I laugh at her audacity, "Is that your way of volunteering for the position?"

She gives in to her smirk, "Maybe." She bumps her shoulder into mine, "Whaddya say?"

My voice drops down to a whisper, suddenly stolen by my closing throat, "I'd like that very much."

"Yay," she beams, "run it past _sir_ and let us know." She gives me an exaggerated wink, nudging her head in my husband's direction.

The reference to Christian's Dom tendencies dissolves the lump in my throat, making way for a fit of giggles that we share just as we used to.

A comfortable silence follows, both of us watching the retreating shoreline, lost to our thoughts.

I turn to her when she speaks again, sad to see the glistening lines of tears on her cheeks, "We've been trying you know."

There is no need for her to explain, instantly I understand that she's referring to their fertility issues.

I press my lips together, taking her hand, "I can't imagine how painful that must be for you. I'm so sorry."

She wipes at the wet tracks with the back of her hand, expelling a long breath, "There's hope at least. That's what I wanted to tell you. Our news."

I give her hand a squeeze, encouraging her to go on. In spite of the heartbreaking reality of their childlessness I'm touched that, after the long break in our friendship, she seems as eager as I am to pick up what we once had; sharing private confidences, relying on each other for support.

"We've fulfilled our contractual obligations for the project we were involved in abroad, so we're coming back home to start out first round of IVF."

"Kate!" I exclaim, "That's fantastic right?"

She shrugs, "It's going to be great to be back here, but I'm not so sure about the IVF." From her look I guess that she's lost a bit of the hope she claims to have.

"There's no better place for you to be. You've got the support of your family, of Grace, of me," I offer, hugging her close.

"Thanks Ana, I appreciate that."

She fiddles with the hem of her sweater, quiet for now. I can sense how weary she is of the subject, and when she changes it I let it go - for now.

"Are you and Christian going to have any more?" If it hurts her to ask she doesn't show it, instead she smiles warmly.

I gulp, wondering how to handle the potentially loaded question. Should I spare her feelings, be dismissive about our efforts, or tell her the truth?

Recalling her straight shooting ways I opt for the facts, "We're trying at the moment," I say carefully, gauging her reaction. I expect to see pain among the emotions in her eyes but it's not there.

Her face splits with a huge smile, "That's so awesome! Chris is a great kid Ana. You'd be mad not to make more if they come out like that."

We laugh, "Yeah, he's great," I confirm, my mouth sliding into a wry smile. "A handful, curious…"

"Adorably inappropriate," she interrupts, again bumping my shoulder playfully. "Isn't that so delicious hiney mommy?"

Her teasing tone makes me blush, and I groan, covering my hot face with my hands, "You have no idea!"

She giggles, "What? What's more embarrassing than your son talking about your backside in front of your in-laws?"

Debating whether to tell her, I peek at her from between my spayed fingers, "Mmhh," I hesitate, already cringing with mortification.

She shakes her head, a comical, horrified expression on her lovely face, "Noooo," she drawls, understanding dawning. "He walked in on you?"

I can only nod, blushing all over I bite my lip as I try to look beyond the shame to see the funny side.

She already does. Her laughter breaks, deep from within her belly she cackles delightedly, "Talk about coitus interruptus!"

The sound of her hollering with glee is infectious, making me snort, "It was more like lingus interruptus," I chirp, no longer able to hold back my own amusement.

She laughs harder, "Oh no! Did you at least get to finish?"

We erupt into another round of hysterics with me laughing too hard to answer.

It feels good to laugh like this, with her and so completely. To have one of those hilarious moments where, even once the merriment dies down, it bubbles up the moment you think about it again.

Looking up we find Elliot watching us, clearly bemused, "I see it didn't take you long to pick up where you left off."

His gaze warms, seeing Kate enjoying herself, and it makes the strain of their fertility issues all the more apparent. We nod our heads, still spluttering but at least trying to maintain a shred of decorum.

"Arrr your captain has ordered you wenches to the galley. Your men demand hot beverages."

We giggle at his mock pirate accent. We get up from our seats, and Kate steps into his arms. I leave them to have their cuddle, my heart warmed by their still strong connection as I make my way into the belly of the boat.

A few minutes later Kate joins me in the galley. As comfortable as ever we fall back into easy conversation, filling in the last five years' worth of blanks.

x

"So," she asks, something in the way she stretches the O sound, tells me she's about to broach a more prickly subject. "How is the Red Room of Pain these days?"

I cough to hide my splutter. That's Kate; I think ruefully, she always was direct.

"Shhh!" I admonish with a finger in front of my lips. I look around nervously, wondering where Collins is hiding.

It's funny that she remembers the nickname I gave Christian's playroom but I don't really know what to tell her, "It's closed. Very, very closed," I say, giving her a meaningful quirk of my brow.

"Really?" her bug eyes betray her surprise. "Wow," she breathes, "and are we happy or sad about this little detail?"

"Honestly? I don't know what to think. I worry that he misses it, I wonder if he's afraid…" my words fade out with a shrug of my shoulders.

"So what? It's been plain vanilla with you guys?" She sounds disbelieving, and I can hardly blame her.

My cheeks pink at her indiscreet question, "It's Christian," I say as if that explains everything. "Nothing is plain where his uhm… skills are concerned. There's been a little bit of kink but nothing like before." I press my lips together, waiting for her reaction.

"Oh," she says, looking thoughtful, "are you going to talk to him about it?"

"Maybe but I think I should rather **do** something about it." Again I wait for her reply, eager to get an opinion on something that's been bothering me for a while.

She nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek, "Yeah. I would too if I were you."

Secretly I'm pleased with her answer. I do miss the kinky fuckery.

"We're thinking of airing the BDSM laundry," I blurt. I wasn't planning on mentioning it, but it feels so good to have someone to talk to, someone I trust to give me honest feedback. I continue quickly, before I lose my nerve, "It's like a sword hanging over his head you know? This constant threat of exposure."

She doesn't hide her surprise, "Shit Ana, that's huge! How would you do it?"

"Nothing is decided yet but I was thinking high-end, glossy magazine spread. A cheeky article that plays down the hard edge of the scene, but puts the information out there."

She whistles through her teeth, then speaks directly to my greatest fear, "I can see the obvious win here. To get rid of a potential blackmail threat would be priceless, but what about your marriage Ana? Do you think your relationship is strong enough to withstand the advances of women who would find that sort of thing irresistible? Is your self-confidence up to believing that your man will be faithful no matter who pushes their husband-stealing panties into his pockets?"

_**For in case you're interested I have two more Fifty Shades short stories here on FanFiction (Christmas Meander & Valentine's Meander – both are sequels to Fifty Shades Meander) and another two on my blog exclusively: Quickie Meander & Spanish Meander. See my profile for links.**_

**Thank you for reading, please don't forget to review.**

**Chapter 48 to come.**


	48. Chapter 48

**Another late post, please accept my apologies for tardy grammar and spelling. This chapter must still be proofed. Thank you for your comments and reviews.**

**Chapter 48**

It's not like I haven't considered it, and if I'm honest with myself, the question is not about the strength of my marriage but rather my personal, emotional security within it. I know only too well how my perception of a situation can rule my thoughts and deeds, and it may very well have nothing to with reality.

I cock my hip against the galley counter, shame pinching my cheeks because I really can't tell her that I am strong enough, "I don't know." With a puff of air I blow my bangs off my face, "I've no doubt that there'll be some sort of backlash, but by the same token, he can't keep living like this," I make an all-encompassing gesture with my hand. "Reporters digging, hoping to find dirt that they'll cast in the most unflattering, sordid light, who knows how many subs out there with little enough to lose from breaking a NDA. The impact of that on our lives will be far greater, irreparable even, than the discomfort I might endure at the hands of some over amorous female. At least this way we can control a lot of what comes out, and how."

Kate chews the inside of her cheek, looking at me with her head tilted to one side, "I can't fault your thinking Ana, and if you go through with it, it would be great if you could think about it as a way for you to make up for the past - if that's what you need - but I think you may be underestimating the damaging effect a hordes of admiring women can wreak on your relationship. All anyone has to do is plant a seed of doubt in your mind, and even if it's untrue, wondering about your husband's fidelity can only lead to more insecurity."

_Whoa! Damn Kate and her straight shooting ways._

Dropping my gaze I focus on stirring the mugs of steaming chocolate in front of me, "Do you think I need to make up for the past?"

"Oh Ana!" she sighs, exasperated. "No. I don't, but I know you, and if you're struggling with guilt, it's a way for you to look at it you know? I just want you to think about it carefully. Stopping a threat, only to face it from another direction is pretty pointless."

"I guess," I mumble, feeling all kinds of foolish. I sprinkle the drinks with cinnamon, absentmindedly adding a dash of vanilla. "The way I'm seeing it, we'll gain a lifetime of freedom from this particular threat whereas whatever happens around the time of the article, will only be temporary."

"Hhmm," she muses, obviously unconvinced.

With my thoughts on the subject as clear as muddy water, I drop it, asking her to give me a hand with the drinks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Windswept, a little chilly and high on a day spent with loved ones we head home after dropping Kate and Elliot back at the Grey family home. Excited that they're going to be around we make plans to get together soon.

On the backseat of the SUV, I cuddle into Christian's side, his arm stretched along the seatback, "Thank you Mr Grey. That was a lovely day."

He smiles down at me, looking relaxed, carefree even, and the sight of him in high spirits weighs in as another reason to do the magazine spread. _How can his happiness not be worth any sacrifice?_

He presses a kiss to my forehead, "It was," he confirms, looking past me now to his drowsy son who may very well have had the best day of his life.

I giggle quietly behind my hand, turning to see Chris waging a mighty battle with his heavy lids.

A worried expression washes over Christian's beautiful face, "Shouldn't we try to keep him awake until we get home so he won't miss dinner?"

I hide my smile, grasping the near disastrous proportions of a missed meal in Fifty's book, "Even if we tried, there's no fighting that."

Both our heads cut back to watching our son. Not only has he lost the epic battle, but his head is slumped to the side, his little mouth gapes with the slackness of his relaxed jaw. He is as fast asleep as he'll ever be, and I'm pretty certain that not even a trumpet blown in his ear will rouse him from his exhausted snooze.

"He ate a lot today, he'll be fine," I reassure him when I see the concern lingering in his ash colored gaze.

Not ready to shed his fatherly instincts just yet he keeps pressing, "But what about his bath? What if he gets hungry during the night?"

I touch his face, forcing his focus onto me, "Christian," I breathe gently, "In case you haven't noticed your son eats like a horse. Skipping a meal or a wash on occasion won't hurt him, but if he wakes up when we get home, the yeah, we can feed and bath him before putting him back to bed." I give him by finest _mommy-knows-best_ smile.

Still unsure, he blinks, warring with himself. The way he loves and cares for Chris is so beautiful, so profound, but he's adding unnecessary stressors to the already hard job of parenting.

"Hey," I run the back of my knuckles down the sharp edge of his jaw, the short, spikey hairs grazing my skin in the most delicious way. "Rest is just as important as eating, and if he wakes up feeling hungry," I shrug, then lace my fingers through his, "we'll make him something, even if it's in the middle of the night."

The anxiety I thought a moment ago was going to be difficult to shift flees from his face. In its place a shadow of something else entirely graces his features, banishing any remaining air between us. The stormy grey of his eyes hardens with a gleam of desire so steamy I feel a wash of heat engulfing me. His unhurried, heavy-lidded blink is accentuated by the devilish curve of his mouth.

He shakes his head, slowly, deliberately, "No Mrs. Grey. There'll be no interruptions tonight baby. Tonight every inch of that delectable body of yours is mine. I want to remember every second of knocking you up."

His raspy voice slides over me like honey, the words seemingly waking every nerve and cell in my body. _Oh my!_

I finally remember to take a breath, I want to give him a sultry smile, but I only manage a squeak. Vaguely I think about cautioning him again, about keeping his baby-making expectations realistic but he sweeps it away with a whispering brush of his mouth. My lips part by their own accord, instinctively responding to their mate. With a quiet, deep groan he slants his head, slipping his warm tongue into my opening offer.

It's one of those kisses, laden with intention and meaning, it's searing, burning, melting, showing me every beautiful ounce of his adoration. Kisses like this are a gift from him, not a mere melding of lips and tongue, but a declaration. The firm press of his mouth, the sinuous stroke of his tongue, the possessive hand holding me to him, is all the ways he's choosing to bare himself to me. Making himself vulnerable to support the words of love he showers me with.

I'm grateful for the SUV's tinted windows when the vehicle jars us apart from the tell-tale jolt it makes driving over the speed bump at the entrance of Escala's parking garage. I can only imagine the twisted kick the reporters would get from our backseat make-out session. I would hate for a breathtakingly beautiful moment like that to be sullied by salacious journalism for the sheer sake of it. I despise the way the gossip rags use a picture or a headline to imply something that turns out to be non-existent when you read the related blurb.

Blinking, my lips still tingle with the feel of the slow glide of his skilled mouth on me. I realize that we must've been at it for over ten minutes, and not once did he touch me other than holding me to him. This is his special Christian sexpertise skill, to engage me so completely I forget who I am; and where, not to mention the aching, dripping mess he leaves in my panties.

His knowing smirk is teasing, his lazy stare all but devouring when he mouths the word _later_ to me. And it's enough, as it always is, to drive me witless with need. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to recall if I saw anything in his baby-making research about an ideal time of day to conceive. My eyes dart to the SUV clock on the dash displaying 6:55pm, and for a brief moment I entertain telling him that 7pm is the magic hour for procreation, but Taylor steals his attention away from me.

"Sir, do you have time for a quick meet now?" He enquires looking back over his shoulder.

"Sure," Christian replies easily. "Let me get Chris to bed, then I'll meet you in my office."

Taylor nods, unclipping his seatbelt, and we do the same. I undo Chris' while Christian comes around the vehicle to pick him up. I watch him cradle his sleeping son to his chest, his gentleness belying his physical presence, and the strength of his beautifully muscled arms. I don't think I'll ever get enough of seeing the two of them together, of counting the ways in which he cherishes our child.

Chris doesn't so much as stir when we put him into bed, or when I carefully take off the bulk of his clothes. Christian pulls up his covers, and we leave him with whispered good wishes and feathery kisses on his copper-brown crown.

With his arms banded around me from behind Christian walks me to the kitchen, "Mrs. Grey you'd better rustle up something for us to eat, you're going to need your stamina," he quips cheekily in my ear, the smile in his voice cocky.

Turning in his arms I arch a brow at him, "Barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen huh? Is that your game Mr. Grey? I should warn you that I'm not giving up my career to be a full time mommy," I inform him with a grin, poking a playful finger into his hard pecks.

His laugh is rich and deep, humor lighting his eyes, "I told you before Mrs. Grey, I'll take you any way I can get you, but there'll be no negotiation on the pregnancy part." Bending forward he flicks his tongue around the rim of my ear. He whispers, taking his time to enunciate each word carefully, "Maybe even more than one."

"Ah!" I gasp, jerking my head back in shock.

With a chuckle and a wink he shows me how unfazed he is by my saucered stare. _Eat,_ he mouths, then strides away, his gait that of a man who just got exactly what he wanted.

_Ha! We'll see about that!_

Chunky cottage cheese, paper thin slices of honey glazed ham, and avocado with lashings of lemon dressing and freshly ground black pepper fills my rye bread open sandwich platter.

In a surreptitious bid to help Christian wrap up his time outside our bedroom sooner, I take the platter into his office to turn his meeting with Taylor into an eating one. Even though I'd like to stay and catch up with the information Taylor has garnered so far, I going to trust Christian to fill me in and rather use my time to titivate.

After washing the salt and the wind from my body, I brush my teeth and dry my hair. The flushed cheeked vixen looking back at me from the mirror is more than a little impatient to see how the night plays out.

Conceiving a child is monumental whichever way you look at it, but it's something that seems to affect Christian on much more than just a physical level. The animalistic, alpha-male I shared my body with on Thursday night was a completely new experience for me. Sex between us has always been nothing short of earth-shattering, but it's never been that raw, that primal. Mating is what comes to mind; his usual possessive streak taking on a whole new, primitive light.

In bed it's hard to concentrate on the book I'm reading, my body still thrumming from his kiss as much as his promise. I all but jump out of my skin when he strolls into our bedroom looking delicious and cocksure. His grin is wolfish.

Leaning over me where I sit with my back against the headboard, he traces a line from my jaw to my ear with the tip of his tongue, "I'm going to have a quick shower baby," he croons. "Think about me taking your body, pushing into you with every hard inch of me, then filling you with my semen. Think of you and me Anastasia, making a baby." With a sharp nip of my earlobe he leaves me, smirking as he gives me a last look over his shoulder.

I feel lightheaded from holding my breath. If his intention was to change the rhythm of my heart he certainly succeeded, pumping my desire-thickened blood through my veins at double the speed. The heat rising to my cheeks makes me uncomfortably hot, my skin suddenly clammy. The slippery tissues between my legs contract, only heightening the sensation of aching emptiness there.

When Christian steps out of the bathroom I can add another reason to my list of why I'm in a slick, squirmy state. With only a towel wrapped around his lean hips, his torso is on full display, though what use the towel was, I've no idea. He's still dripping wet, his skin glistening with moisture in the dimmed light. With a panther's grace he pads across the thick carpet, every flexing muscle screaming of effortless sensuality.

x

My teeth tug on my bottom lip. I'm helpless, unable to tear my stare from his perfect male from. From memory I evoke the feel of his corded forearms under the touch of my hands, the dip that make up the divine join of his bicep turning into his rounded shoulder, the hollows that define the lines between the blocked muscles of his abdomen, and the twin indentations on either side of his hips, making a perfectly outlined V, like a sexy arrow pointing to a prize. And what a prize it is, already straining against the flimsy confines of the towel.

Christian catches me looking, "Mrs. Grey, do you see anything you like?" Turing he faces me head-on with his head inclined to one side, elbows bent he has his fists fixed to his hips.

I shake my head - slowly, contradicting the hungry look I know is burning in my blue gaze, "Not like Mr. Grey. Love." I let my tongue linger on the edge of my teeth, drawing out the L sound.

I revel in the profound effect my words have on him. The soft gasp, the brief, startled flicker, flaming into something more as his eyes turn darker.

The blink of his lids grow heavy, lazy as his eyes meet mine, taking possession of me just like he would with his body. The connection between us is suddenly palpable, thick with our indelible magnetism.

I hear the hiss of the iPod dock as he clicks it to life with the remote in his hand, the sound suggestive, evocative. In my mind music is eternally bound to the start of so many scenes like this, but none as meaningful.

As the first stringing notes of Everything by Lifehouse pipe from the hidden speakers, I know that the playlist he selected tonight will be stirring and provocative, the deliberately chosen songs caressing my emotions like the loving touches we're about to share.

Everything – Lifehouse

Find me here,

And speak to me.

I want to feel you,

I need to hear you.

You are the light,

That's leading me, the place,

Where I find peace again

The Scientist – Coldplay

A Thousand Years Pt.2 – Christina Perri

She's Got A Way – Billy Joel

The Flame – Cheap Trick

Say You Will Always Be Mine – Ruth Sahanaya

I remain ensnared by his binding stare when he flicks the cover off the bed, tossing it aside. At some point in time I must've put my book on the bedside table because I find my hands empty, my fingers twisting in the sheet beneath me. The way he looks at me has the world and everything in it melting away. It's just me and him on an ocean of pearly grey sheets. His towel follows the bedding, leaving him gloriously naked, the insignificant ice-blue silk of my slip the only barrier left between us.

From the far side of the bed he crawls to me, that predatory bearing unmistakable and oh-so thrilling. Not once does his gaze waver from mine, he hardly blinks. With forceful hands he grips my ankles. Opening my legs, he pulls me into the middle of the bed. He growls watching the fabric of my sleepwear riding up my body, bunching around my waist, and showing-off my pantyless state. He helps me lift my back off the bed, making quick work of ripping off my slip.

Seated on his haunches, between my splayed limbs, his head drops, and his full focus shifts to my bare mound. The intimacy is intense, almost unbearable. Every instinct tells me to cover myself, but I fight it, trying to lie perfectly still. After torturously long minutes he buries his nose between my spread thighs, taking a deep pull of my private scent. I convulse at the contact, my hips bucking into him.

When I open my eyes he's poised above me, watching me shudder through the fleeting pleasure. He lets me feel his weight, the thick set of his rigid flesh trapped between our bodies as he supports himself with his arms at the sides of my head.

He settles himself back against me, satisfied with the skin-to-skin contact he runs his nose along mine, "Do you trust me baby?"

With just those words, need wrapped in a little fear whips through me, "Yes," I promise on a scantly audible breath.

Now that he's close my fingers tingle to touch him. Skating my hands over his broad chest, I do what I always do, commit each line and ridge to memory, feeding my senses with the details of him. Over his taut shoulders, as they take his bulk, I roam, marveling at how he closes his eyes, giving himself up to the sensation he used to dread. I love that he lets me, putting his plans aside for the moment.

When he opens his eyes I'm hit with the weight of emotion laid bare. The load crushing, forcing the air from my lungs.

"I love you," he murmurs, his tone reverential, his voice catching.

I've known the soft glow of love in his eyes, but nothing like this. For a moment I wonder what's changed, but then I remember my conversation with Taylor, at the hospital after Christian got shot. He said that I didn't grasp the depth of Christian's love for me. He implied that it was way more than what Christian allowed me to see.

If I wanted proof I was seeing it now, making me feel small and tall at the very same time. The bitter-sweet of watching his words come to life in his gaze is a powerful affirmation, and a horrid reminder of my stupidity.

"Christian?" I ask because I sense he wants more than just a return of that precious declaration.

He lifts a hand to my forehead, brushing back my hair, "For so long I wanted to show you how much I cared but I was too scared. Maybe if I did, things would have been different for us, but you're here now, and you're giving me this baby, offering me this unbreakable bond with you. I want to return the gesture Ana, to show you everything my heart hold for you."

My eyes brim with tears, happy, overwhelmed ones that spill quietly down my temples. I smile, touched and so completely lost to him, "I love you too," I all but choke past the dessert in my throat. Only the context of the moment makes the overused phrase take on the crater-deep emotions backing it.

With enough sentiment between us to last the length of two lifetimes, Christian slants his mouth over mine. He shifts his weight onto his elbows, lacing our fingers he locks our hands together. It's so much more than just a kiss, we melt into each other. For the first time I understand what it means to become one with another.

By the time he lifts his mouth away from mine I'm drunk with sensation, high on the spirituality of wholly submitting to our union. Still unfocused, dazed our eyes meet, and in less time it takes to take a full breath of air, that achingly romantic trice brews into a storm. Something so vast, so powerful, a melding of lust, desire, yearning, instinct, hunger – all erupting into a driving force of carnal need.

With little time to compute what's happening Christian has my wrists bound together and secured to the bedpost above my head. My blood that was sluggish moments ago with slow, syrupy contentment is now racing in my veins, lighting fires in its wake. My breaths are shallow and short, matching Christian's urgent pant. My poor heart falters, skip-tripping over itself as it bangs against my ribs.

With a look as wicked at satan himself he nails me with a stare, "I'm going to kiss every inch of you baby. EVERY. INCH," he stresses, "and then Mrs. Grey I'm going to fuck you into oblivion."

I would gasp if I could, but my senses are stunned, my thoughts are scattered like the seeds of dandelion on a whim of the wind. I finally inhale when he's hard body rises above me, the tight brown disks of his nipples hovering over my face as he sucks my ring finger into the searing heat of his mouth.

I squirm and moan, brining my knees together to squeeze my thighs, desperate for even the slightest release. My inner muscles clench, acutely aware of his torturous absence.

While I wriggle and writhe, twist and buck, mewl and beg, Christian makes good on his promise, every plea tripping off my tongue goes unheard. He kisses my palms, my wrists, licks his way up the insides of my forearms. He swirls his tongue and kiss along my bicep, my shoulder and lingers in my neck. He nips and kisses, groans in delight as he worships my skin, taking his fill of my scent and my taste.

Each touch stokes and slakes, driving desire ever higher, ever deeper, but it's also insanely, tormentingly, erotically sublime.

From my neck he moves to my face, brushing, ghosting lips over my brows, my fluttering lids, my cheeks before he sinks his tongue into my mouth. I take his desperate plunder with relief, groaning into our kiss I feel like I'm drowning in the current of our joining.

It's too much and it's not enough. I die and am reborn. There isn't an inch of me that isn't aflame with need for him. As if he senses this, he restarts his sensual tour, but ads the slide of his palms over my needy flesh. Wherever his mouth is, his hands work in tandem, gently kneading, touching, squeezing.

My fist panicked thought, when his mouth hits the hollow of my throat, is that he'll ignore my breasts, and for a second my muscles lock, jerking my body with a jolt. Looking up my torso he lifts his head, eyes as dark as I've seen them. There's no smile, only the heart-stopping, raw want of my man's slipping control.

He flicks my nipple with the flat of his tongue, watching me jar at the sensation, "I want to do this," he rasps breathlessly, looking at my breasts with longing, "but you can't come."

I squeak a _yes,_ marking my understanding but promising nothing. At this point I think a breeze in the air across my sodden slit will have me coming.

x

Mercifully his lips close over my neglected nipple while he holds the round swell in place, the fingers of his hand splayed wide. The other massages its mate, firmly plumping the touch-starved globe. On a cry I arch my back, relief and desire hitting my core with a quaking spasm.

"Christian!" I wail, "I can't! Please!" My voice is a husky stammer, a thready whine.

I catch his gaze. He looks every bit as mindless as I feel. If the burning steel rod against my quad is anything to go by, he must be close to shedding the shackles of his control. I feel him rock his thick shaft against my leg, confirming my suspicion. In all the time we've been together I've not once seen him come close enough to losing it to need a stroke to tide him over. Knowing that it's me, my body doing that to him is insanely arousing, pushing every hot button I have.

He takes a breath, gritting his teeth, seemingly regaining a bit of control.

"Ssshhhh baby, I've got you," he soothes, lowering his mouth to my belly now.

I hiss, thrashing my head from side to side. The muscles in the legs stiffen; I would kick them if they weren't pinned under his weight.

"Please, I'm so close!" I warn, almost sobbing.

He wriggles himself in between my legs, slipping his hands beneath me to cup my ass.

"You are so fucking wet," he growls, digging his finders into the flex of my behind, but I'm already infinitely aware of the coolness in the crease of my thighs now that they're spread wide. Teasingly he blows a soft stream of air over my drenched sex.

Like a stone dropped into a pond the rippling starts at my core, pulling my abdomen into a contraction.

"Unf!" The inarticulate sound is all I can manage against the barrage of sensation hurtling towards me.

Christian senses my impending fall, "No!" he commands, the word gruff and ragged.

I latch onto the authoritarian bite in his voice to pull me back toward myself while he eases the contraction in my belly with the heel of his hand, effectively rubbing it out.

He sits up, kneeling between my legs.

A wry smile tugs at his mouth, at odds with the wild, half lidded look in his eyes. "I think you've had enough Mrs. Grey," he declares, taking in the sweaty sheen of skin, my frantic breaths, and flushed face, though his gravely grit betrays the cracks in his own restraint.

I gulp a reprieved breath, not revealing how close I just came to using my derelict safe word.

"Yes," I whisper hoarsely.

x

With the ease of his fluid grace he hoists my legs over his shoulders. He takes an evanescent moment, leaning over me to untie my hands before fisting himself at the base of his stone-hard flesh.

"Are you ready baby?" he purrs, pushing the swollen crown just past my yearning opening.

If I had any fight left, I'd have given him a taste of my smart mouth just then, but I'm way beyond sass. I can only nod, bracing myself for the sublime penetration that'll slake my quivering want. My hands curl around his wrists, steadying him on both sides of my head.

"Eyes on me," he growls as he sinks into me, putting his weight behind the drive.

The incredible silky slide rips a craggy cry from us both, the primal satisfaction of being so connected, taken, possessed by the man that I love bolts through my very being.

"Jeez! You're tight like this!" he grits through the clench of his jaw. His stare is locked to mine, fierce in its feral need.

If I was a step away from orgasm I race right back, verging on the very edge. Christian picks up his pace, fucking into me with pounding steady strokes. I watch lust tightening his expression, feeling the girth of his rigid shaft swelling with the load of his seed he so desperately wants to leave with me.

In this position, with him leaning over me, I get a delicious double drag of stimulation. With every thrust he grinds against the puckering pearl between the lips of my sex, along with the stabbing friction of his pulsing erection. In a matter of seconds I sense the telling clenches of the muscles in my slick channel.

"Not yet!" his voice is low, guttural but no less commanding.

My bloodless knuckles shake with the force of my grip as I concentrate to stave off my fall. I see the flare of his nostrils, his jaw locking in place. His eyes bore into mine, smoky and open he's showing, sharing the lashings of pleasure shaking his body just as his soul. With a roaring growl that vibrates through my core, he comes. Yelling for me to follow, he bursts apart spectacularly, blowing into me his hot load.

Watching him sets me off and I fight to keep my eyes on him. I feel myself clamp onto his thick length, shuddering with the ever growing tremors that's been threatening to jar my very foundations. Never missing a beat he keeps up the frantic pace of his pumping hips, and adds a thumb to the explosive button between my legs. Release pulses through me, my inner walls rippling, quaking with a searing, blinding delight. With a hoarse cry I shout his name, the vulnerability of the moment almost too much, too intimate.

Before I have time to regain my bearings Christian slips my legs from his shoulders, never breaking the join of our bodies, and guides us into the missionary position. Still hard he lunges into me with slow, measured strokes.

Just as my scattered thoughts regroup, coming to terms with the immediate start of round two, his mouth seals over mine. In sharp contrast to the urgent oral possession of earlier, with this kiss he pours his heart out to me, filling me up like he did with his sperm. With his body closely molded to mine he makes love to me, with me. Slow, romantic, passionate, all-consuming love, where neither his hands, nor his mouth, leaves me unattended for a single second.

Yes, I think, all but lost to the drugging sensations of his total possession. If ever there was a moment that was the perfect prelude to conception, this must've been it. If sheer desire and force of a husband's will was all that was required I would so fall pregnant from this.

_**Thank you to the readers whose song suggestions I used in this chapter.**_

**Thank you for reading. Please be kind and review!**

**Chapter 49 to follow only at the end of May, I have a week-long conference coming up.**


	49. Chapter 49

**Dear readers, as always I'd like to thank you for your support and reviews! Please note that, for the time being, this chapter has yet to be edited.**

**Chapter 49**

The searing connection of our lovemaking leaves us spent, panting when Christian withdraws, falling back onto the bed beside me. Dissatisfied with even the smallest distance between us he pulls me into his side, fitting me to his form. He kisses my head, but the gravity of the moment doesn't lend itself to words. When our racing breaths slow down I catch him staring at me, his expression still baring the enormity of what we just shared.

I sense the weight of it around us, he's overcome, so touched that it moves me to tears, but it's the last thing I want to do. Affected as I am myself, I feel it should be an utterly happy moment. I smile, doing the only thing I can think of to lighten the mood. From beneath my head I grab the pillow, watching him, watching me, his eyes turning bemused as a little frown forms on his brow. Lifting my pelvis I shove the pillow beneath it, elevating my hips just like Christian's collection of baby-making websites explained to do after sex.

I sink my teeth into the kiss-swelled fullness of my bottom lip, fighting the giggle trying to escape when his look turns to surprise, my own amused face telling him that I know all about his little illicit baby-making searches. After a fleeting second of bewilderment a sheepish grin cracks over his face.

He shakes his head, chuckling, "You got me."

I give in to my welling giggles, letting them spill, relieved at seeing the ever mercurial shift of his emotions, "Baby-making research eh?"

Propping himself up on his elbows, he hovers over me, looking smug, "Uh-huh, I wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers."

Before I know what's happening he captures my wrists, pins my legs with his and tickles my sides.

I squirm and yelp, giggling uncontrollably, "No! Stop!" I snort, trying to roll away from his persistent fingers. The gleam in his eye alone is proof that he's enjoying himself way too much to stop.

"Stop!" I squeal again. "I'm trying to make a baby here!" Finally, with my eyes streaming, he relents to my breathless protests.

He lets go of my arms, his hands coming down to cup the top of my head, breathing hard, looking young and carefree and happy, "Yes," he whispers, "and I can't wait!" He nuzzles his face between my breasts, "I want to hold his tiny body against mine, looking into his face to see which of our features I can pick out. I want his tiny hand to curl around my finger. I want to watch the first time you hold him close, helping him latch onto you. I want to see Chris' reaction to getting a lifelong friend, a brother."

Moving words from my excited husband, but despite the beautifully romantic notion, and his absolute enamourdness with the idea, my mind just can't help hearing the repetitive _he_ in his words.

Reaching up, I run my fingers along the side of his handsome face, choosing my words very carefully, "I'm excited too. I want to share all of that with you, and Chris and our families, but there's an equal chance that this baby, when I do conceive, might end up being a little girl."

Even though he hides it well, the change in his pallor gives him away, "I know," he says a little too forcefully, giving me the impression that the idea of a daughter might scare him. "Or her," He corrects himself, his hard swallow audible as his Adam's apple bobs up and down.

I give him a reassuring smile. _We have time,_ I think. Once I've conceived and we learn the sex of the baby, he'll adjust – hopefully.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sunday is a deliciously lazy day for us, just the three of us spending time together. Christian is impressed with Chris' progress on the piano, and I enjoy listening to them while I prepare our lunch. Only by the late afternoon, with Chris engrossed in an animated movie about a red racing car, do I get the opportunity to ask Christian about his meeting with Taylor, but I regret it the moment I do.

Sitting on the breakfast bar stool, his whole body stiffens, just as a black thundercloud settles over his head. Making sure that Chris is out of earshot he looks back over his shoulder before turning his serious gaze to me, the slate of his eyes take on a steely shade.

"All the staff from the Bellagio we could interview checks out, but there are two that we can't seem to track down. For now, that's a dead end if it doesn't bring us closer to finding out who leaked the fact that we were there and to whom."

I nod, my mind taking in his words, but I sense there's more to his story, the change in his demeanor not equal to a problem we've been having a while. I wait, watching him war with himself about spilling the rest of the beans that has him in such a tense mood.

Fusing his inscrutable look with mine he pushes both hands through his hair, "Josè is playing hard ball with Chris's paternity change."

My stomach suddenly feels like it's filled with lead, like the fingers of a ghost, dread creeps over my skin.

"But you are his father," my thready, breathless whisper speaks of shock, and the fear I'd like to shove back in a box and forget about.

"Yes," Christian agrees evenly, his complete focus on me, gauging, measuring. "He's not going to let us change Chris's paternity details without putting up a fight, and seeing that he isn't really the father, that he's never made any contribution to Chris's upbringing, it's very clear to me that he's doing this to deliberately agitate an already volatile situation."

The muscles in my belly closes around the lump of lead it holds, "Have you spoken to him?"

"No, he's still out of the country but he's enlisted a lawyer to waste our time," he grits with no small amount of irritation. "The fact of the matter is he doesn't have a leg to stand on, but Georgia's laws require the consent of the named father for the change of paternity, and my subsequent adoption of Chris. He seems to be using this to complicate things for us. Once the paternity has been proven, the paternity order has been issued, and considering the background of the case - that you were divorced at the time of Chris' birth - no judge will disallow the change, but his protest will slow things down considerably as we now have to go through a lengthy legal process."

I know I must be pale, probably sheet white as I stare at him in shock and shame, "Why would he do that?" As the words leave my mouth I realize, deep within myself, that if what Christian just told me is true, then Josè is almost certainly our mystery perp.

Worry lines wrinkle his brow. Rounding the counter he's quick to draw me into his arms, pressing my head to his chest, "I don't know baby, slated, jealous, resentful, whatever the reason I want to be crystal clear on something." Cupping my shoulders he pushes me back, staring into my watery, blinking eyes, "You will have no contact with him what. So. Ever. No-thing," he enunciates slowly. "I will handle this."

By his tone I figure he's come to the same conclusion as I have, but I can hardly hear him properly, the sound of rushing blood in my ears jarring and loud, drowning out almost everything but the screams of recrimination in my head.

Unwilling, unable to make sense of it all just yet, I make a poor, last attempt at dispelling his news, "But I thought you said that the process of changing Chris's name was almost complete."

Again he holds me to him, tightening his arms around me, comprehending my reasons as well as the levels of my distress, "It should have been a simple matter, especially considering that Chris bears your last name - not his - but his contention has… complicated matters." It's easily the understatement of the year.

I am shattered, devastated at the implications. Until now I didn't quite grasp how large the part of me was that still held onto the belief that Josè didn't have this in him.

"Don't go there baby," he warns, sensing my withdrawal, the crush of my guilt. "In this, I'm just as guilty as you are. I refuse to let you dwell on something that's done." With both his hands slipping into my hair, he lifts my head, boring imploring grey eyes into me, "Don't allow this to hurt us baby. Nothing's changed, all the ugly is out in the open. I'm not going anywhere, no matter how complicated shit gets, and you sure as hell aren't either," he tells, no, commands me.

Gratitude is just one of many emotions washing through my overwrought system right now as I take in his point. We had our suspicions, and now they may very well be confirmed but it doesn't change anything. Flynn and I have touched on the pointlessness of guilt so many times in the past weeks that I feel myself compelled to make an effort to let it go, and rather focus on fixing it.

Working my thickened throat into a swallow I nod, disconcerted, but at the very least hoping that I'm strong enough to withstand the inevitable storm. This whole thing only reiterates how important it is for us to air Christian's BDSM laundry.

"I don't want to hurt you or us, but you must know how sorry I am. I know you don't want to hear it, but please, just tell me you know."

"I know," he breathes quietly, brushing away the stray strands that's escaped from my hair tie, and in that way of his, where he always knows to say the exact right thing, he does, "and I know that I would do all of this again, have it happen just as it did, if it meant I could have you for the rest of my life."

My inner goddess and subconscious swoon then faint while I stare wide-eyed and speechless at him. _How did I ever get so lucky? _My heart slows down; the gravity of his words, combined with his sincerity is undeniably powerful and oh-so healing. Words of thanks gush into my mouth but they jam there, a sticky, sweet mess that I can't begin to express.

Tongue-tied, I'm forced to go with something simple, "You are a wonderful man and I love you. More than I can possibly tell you."

By his answering beam I can tell that, for him, I got it right. He's so easy to please, so easy to love. Literally throwing my arms around his neck I try to echo my words with the crush of my body. Long moments pass before we break the hold of our embrace, touched but smiling, gazing into each other's beaming faces.

"I want you to do the BDSM fluff piece," I blurt, surprising myself.

Instantly his face turns stony, "If this is the guilt talki…"

I press my finger to his lips, shushing him, and shake my head, "It's not. It's the best thing for us."

He regards me for what feels like ages before he speaks, his voice quietly measured, "I don't know baby. I would rather risk every cent and deal, every share and portfolio before I risk us."

I rest my palm on his chest, feeling the reassuring pump of his heart, "And that is why you are so precious to me, precious enough to want this threat gone. Once and for all." Even I'm impressed with the solid sound of steely conviction in my tone.

He covers my hand with his, holding both of us close, "Let's discuss it, and when you have the full outline of the plan the publicist suggested, and you still feel you want to go through with it, I'll do it."

"Okay," I agree, "sooner rather than laters baby."

He grins at me giving him his own line, "I have something that will fill that smart mouth of yours Mrs. Grey."

My girlish giggle turns to a blushing one when his eyes darken, scorching and sinful, his lids growing heavy.

_Oh my!_

With his thumb and forefinger he pinches my lip away from my teeth's nip. Looking back over his shoulder, he chuckles quietly at Chris staring at the TV screen with rapt attention, no doubt thinking about our interrupted kitchen counter encounter.

"Hhm," he hums, "better hold that thought for later." With his bristly chin he nuzzles into my neck, scraping against my soft skin with the stiff hairs.

I shiver, momentarily trapped by my thoughts caught in a reel of flash-backs featuring my handsome husband.

"Let me show you the publicist's proposal," Christian's clipped, professional voice reconnects me to the moment, leaving me blinking, watching his back as he retreats.

I shake off my little fantasy, and try to brace myself for the details of the plan.

A trice later He places his laptop on the counter, and pulls me to stand between his legs as he takes a seat on the stool.

He rests his chin on my shoulder while he explains the plan, "Obviously the details were kept to a minimum, but this is the plan he came up with." He taps the screen, opening a document. "The idea is to start the campaign with a small blurb, something in a main stream, large publication like FHM magazine. They could do a spread on famous Doms, just a paragraph per person, and would feature me as one of the _celebs_." He makes air quotes around the word _celebs_, earning him a nudge from me in the ribs. Much as he'd like to avoid it, the world is fascinated by him.

"Ouch," he teases, chuckling, rubbing his ribs before continuing on. "This will create a perception that though it might not have been widely known; the information was available to those who went looking for it, not some big secret."

I nod my head, already seeing where this clever path is headed.

"Then a high-end publication, something like GQ," he kisses my temple, presumably because I suggested it, "would pick up the story from there, and run will a full two or three page spread."

"I like the idea of putting the information out there, in a small bite first, before rolling the whole thing out," I say, trying to wrap my mind around all the possible angles.

"Yes, I do too. He also suggested that I include you in the article with GQ, to keep it clear that I'm into married kink now." Lacing his fingers with mine, he brings up our arms to just below my breasts, hugging me to him. I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Married kink huh? As opposed to kinky fuckery?" I tease, turning to face him. "The ol' ball-and-chain holding you back huh?"

His smiles his breathtaking, panty melting, full HD smile, "Can't think of anything I'd like to be held back by more Mrs. Grey."

I can't help the answering beam splitting my face. His joy is like sunshine to me, "Well then, I'll be happy to hold you back as much as you like."

With complete disregard to our son sitting not twenty feet away he kisses me, taking my mouth with the warm abandon of his velvet stroking tongue.

Groaning he comes away from me, "What you do to me Mrs. Grey," he breathes in the low timbre that announces his arousal.

For a minute we stare at each other like fools, caught in the spell of our mutual love before a little voice pipes up with a request, "Mommy can I have somefing to eat?"

Though I'm flustered, Christian takes it in his stride.

Smiling he scoops Chris up with a strong arm, "Hey champ, what would you like?"

Chris's face lights up, the unexpected treat of unrestrained choice piquing his interest, making me laugh because I can see what's coming, "Ooh, Ice-cream, and crunchy chocolate balls, and chocolate sauce, and milk," he informs Christian beaming, thoroughly pleased with his selection.

Christian splutters, shocked, and fast realizing his mistake. Stumped he looks to me, his expression arranged in a silent plea for help. It's adorable.

"Or," I say, playing up my enthusiasm, "I can make us all pink milkshakes!"

Chris sucks in a breath, weighing up his options before clapping his hands delightedly, giving in to the allure of his favorite smoothie that's a million times healthier than his choice, even though he's blissfully unaware of the substantial calorie trade he just made. Wriggling he jumps from Christian's hold then heads back to his movie.

Christian cock's an amused brow at me, "Milkshakes?"

I smile, "Strawberry smoothie, but don't tell him that," I whisper, jerking my head in Chris's direction, giving him a conspiring wink.

He laughs, slapping his thigh, "Ah. Good one Mrs. Grey. Good one."

After the loud wiz of the blender I pick up the thread of our discussion, "So what would the GQ article entail?"

"Naturally an interview. He suggested a very similar outline to your idea, a lighter piece, humorous, focusing on the kinky fun. He insinuated that it was almost fashionable to be associated with something quirky."

Cocking my brow, I rake my teeth across my lip, "Quirky?"

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, bemused, "I'm just repeating the conversation."

"And will I have to answer anything or just go with you?" I ask, pouring our drinks into glasses.

"The interview will definitely be with both of us contributing, as well as an accompanying photo shoot. Something spicy," he says with a smirk before it drops off his face completely, looking at me, "but not too spicy. You're mine."

In these moments were he reveals his vulnerability, I melt. I want nothing more than to soothe his concerns away.

Walking around the counter I take up my spot between his thighs, liking my fingers behind his neck, "Yes Mr. Grey. Yours." When I see his features settle I take the moment to call Chris to collect his drink before sitting on the stool opposite Christian.

"So interview and photo shoot," I scrunch up my nose at the idea of posing for a photographer.

"You'll be stunning baby," he reassures me, "and yes, that's pretty much it. Then the proverbial cat will be out of the bag."

I nod, mulling it over, "So no mention of the past, Elena?" I ask carefully.

Weariness shades his features, "No. Absolutely not. How you feel about this is the most important consideration for me, and second to that is the complete certainty that this interview will not lead to further digging into my past."

For me, apprehension is never far away when this topic is on the table, and already I feel it now, tightening my stomach in a knot. "How can you be certain?"

A dark look flickers in his eyes, "Taylor and I have had a look at the possibilities, from all angles, loose ends, everything we could think of, even my adoption records. The truth of the matter is that there are really very few people that know the whole story, and all of them, bar Elena, are close enough to me never to betray my trust. My early childhood neglect; and the subsequent adoption are already well-known facts that have been researched to death by many reporters. They aren't going to dig up anything else about that time in my life."

"Okay," I say evenly, "but what about the subs, and Elena?"

"Apart from what was stipulated in the contract, I never shared any personal information with them. They wouldn't even have known about my touch issue, never mind the why. Everything they were and weren't allowed to do was in the contract, no questions asked, no explanations given. As for Elena, she stands to lose too much to betray me, and what she can be considered as a crime."

I regard him for long seconds, amazed that he's come to that realization, before resuming my role as Devil's advocate, "How would you handle the issue of you breaking the NDA where they are concerned?"

"I'm not breaching the NDA by saying that I've practiced consensual BDSM, only if I name them would there be an issue of breach, and obviously I'm not planning on doing that."

"Ah. Of course," I say, feeling a little silly. "What if a sub steps forward, offering an expose, a glimpse into being your sub?"

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "Well, apart from coming down on her with a ton of legal bricks, what can she tell them other than that I played Dom, which by then will be common knowledge?"

_Wow, he really did think of everything. _

Nibbling on my lip I offer him the last question that weighs on my mind, "And how do you feel about discussing this with the parents?"

Dropping his gaze he looks at the counter, toying with his glass, "It has to be done. It will be way worse if they don't hear it from me."

Knowing him I can sense his insecurity, that ever present fear that their love for him comes with strings.

Reaching over I join our hands, making him look at me, "Christian, they might not like the idea very much but nothing about you has changed, you're still the son they know and love. I'll bet everything I own that it will be no big deal."

"You seem certain," he mumbles, the plaintive look in his eyes is haunted, breaking my heart.

I call on every ounce of confidence I have to give him a reassuring smile, "I am Christian. Absolutely."

When he says nothing I fill the silence, knowing that for now, that subject is closed, "I like the plan Christian. You have my approval and my encouragement. I want you to do it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With the reporters still hanging about as well as all our security issues we chose our time away from home carefully, only going out when necessary. On Monday I meet my Pilates instructor, a woman of course, that gets patted down and searched by Cindy who is doing well on her first day trailing me. Chris's piano teacher gets the same treatment, though I don't miss her admiring glace at the young, trendy rocker.

By Wednesday I feel the walls of the apartment closing in on me, and I decide to take Chris to the GEH day care, and arrange a meeting with Julie. It's great being in my office again, getting to know the other people that work for Grey Publishing, and of course to run things by Julie, face-to-face.

Straight after our meeting I get stuck into my work, making the changes we've just discussed and generally enjoy being on my own without the distractions that come along with working from home. Cindy is keeping vigil from my office door, she's pretty unobtrusive, and considering the peace of mind it gives Christian, I'm happy for her to be there.

A knock on my door steals my thoughts away from the plot of my book.

Looking up I find Derek hovering, "Hello," I smile, motioning for him to come in.

His black hair is shiny as silk, his bangs long, artfully arranged in fingers, like a raven's wing, over his forehead. His green eyes always look mischievous, like he knows something the rest of us don't. His prominent nose adds to his features, adding character and making his face unmistakable masculine.

He grins, "Good morning Ana. It's good to see you. Julie mentioned she had a meeting scheduled with you. How did it go?" Instead of taking a seat he walks to the window behind me, looking out onto the city.

Swiveling in my chair I face him, "It went well thank you. She always manages to wheedle more from me than I think I can give, but so far, she's been right pushing me and my tidy little comfort zones." I smile despite myself.

He chuckles, looking over to me, "She's the best," he quips, his tone holding a clear note of admiration. He turns his head back to my spectacular view, "I love watching the rain over the city," he informs me, indeed looking lost to the sight.

"I know what you mean, there's something so… renewing about rain." My gaze follows his, watching the rivulets race down the glass. "Oh, how did your date go?" I ask, remembering the end of a previous conversation.

In a gesture of exaggerated despair he put the back of his hand to his forehead, groaning, "You don't want to know!"

I giggle, "Can't be that bad! Is this the woman you met at the gym?"

He takes a few steps back, resting his butt against the edge of my desk, his legs stretched out before him, and his arms crossed over his chest, "Yep, that's the one and it was that bad! She brought a photo album featuring all her nineteen cats in various outfits that she had made them. Even the male cats were dressed in frilly frocks. I felt my nuts shrivel just looking at them."

I splutter, shocked by his blatant remark but also laughing, shaking my head, "Noooo!" I drawl conceding, "That's bad."

He huffs, "I could still handle the cats but she spent the whole night complaining about her mother. She must've told me countless stories about how they don't get along, and what she says, and when she calls…"

He's lament is interrupted by a clearing throat, drawing our attention. Looking around we find Christian filling my doorway, his imposing form dwarfing the space from his size and his stature. Impossibly handsome in a charcoal suit, hugging him with the bespoke lines he favors, the jacket of which is currently buttoned up.

He's wearing his impassive look, the one I've come to recognize as his inscrutable mask.

Without waiting to be invited he strides in, holding out his hand to Derek, "Christian Grey," he announces, his tone cold, measured.

Derek all but jumps off my desk, turning to face his boss', boss,' boss, "Mr. Grey," he takes Christian's proffered hand, looking a bit flustered. "What an honor sir!"

I watch the exchange, narrowing my eyes at my sexy, overbearing, jealous husband, speculating on the serendipity of his visit, "Christian, it's lovely to see you. What brings you by?"

With that sinuous grace of his he closes the gap between us, before wrapping his palms around my shoulders, planting a firm kiss on my startled mouth, "Does a husband need a reason to come and see his wife?"

_Oh boy!_ I've no doubt that he's laying on the Alpha male act. The only question in my mind is how he knew there was a man in my office.

_**I would like to thank**__** Susan and Debs2000 for their invaluable help with the name changing/paternity legislation! My story is also available on my blog in Italian and Portuguese, see my profile for the link.**_

**Chapter 50 to follow.**

**Thank you for reading, don't forget to review!**


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